Godzilla: GMD
by SirRunOn
Summary: Two years after the war in San Francisco the world is a changed place. Monarch races to catch up with its new position in the world, and its competition becomes more active. New groups strive to decide what to do with, how, and if to use the new giant creatures in mankind's world. Some people just never learn. Amazingly being bummed makes writing hard. Has it been a MONTH?
1. Trailer

His eyes felt the size of dinner plates as it towered over them. At least a hundred and fifty meters of insane, solid gold Dragon, standing on two legs. Its wings spread across entire city blocks as it stood between the hospital and Godzilla.

The MUTO behind the hospital let out a pitiable roar as it tried to crawl away, but the king of monsters' eyes were no longer upon it. Something flashed in them. Recognition of an ancient past jolted the beast awake and it roared, the sound shattering windows and forcing the soldiers further down behind the tipped vehicle.

Then the return, booming, shuddering roar, that even though they couldn't see him could only mean one thing. The King was charging. They had to move, they'd be right in the impact zone. How could anything, even a beast of this size, stop sixty thousand tons of charging behemoth? It was impossible.

In response the dragon spread its wings and there was a strange high-pitched ululating whine. It was almost like a child's memory of flying saucers and… something… something no one could put their finger on.

He put his hand to the car, about to push off when something glaringly wrong stared him in the face. The car moved under the simple pressure of his palm. With eyes no less wide than before, and as the other soldiers began getting up and calling to him, he put both hands to the car's frame and with a slight effort a ton and a half of metal moved upwards. He gasped and let it drop to the ground. The car landed lightly on its wheels while Martins called out from the crowd, his leap having rammed him into a nearby wall.

That wasn't possible. That couldn't be happening. With a glance up another thought struck him. If a car now weighed nothing more than a feather then, by comparison, how much would that thing weigh?

"Wait…" he started, but never got a chance to finish.

With a flick of its legs and one powerful beat of those mighty pinions the dragon took off towards Godzilla as if it weighed nothing, for maybe it did. The three block distance between them suddenly becoming all too short as the titans closed upon one another.

Gazing upon the video monitor at the base, his Japanese competitor standing beside him, and looking back and forth from scientist to screen, the stubborn one just gasped in horrified agony.

"No, not again… not another Ghidorah…"

In a combined rate that ate up ground at a worrying speed the pair of monsters closed. The King furrowed his brow, thrust forward his arms and leaned into the charge, determined to get the most possible weight on the collision. The dragon, his wings and arms spread as he charged, making him look like the far larger of the two, had a different idea. Shifting its massive shoulders it caught one clawed foot on the ground. Its spread wings shifted and filled as if by some impossible wind. Then with a grace impossible in such a creature it sidestepped out of Godzilla's way in mid charge.

The brains of every scientist in the control room broke, badly.

The size difference between the two became more obvious as Godzilla, for a moment, stood in the dragon's shadow. The King came up just to the dragon's shoulders, or maybe a hair above. One eye turned toward the golden dragon, there was nothing Godzilla could do but try to understand, no counter he could call on so quickly as his foe reached out to him with its clawed hands, grabbing him while its massive wings all but tented the saurian juggernaut.

On the ground something struck the soldier as the car regained it's weight and bounced fitfully in front of him. He'd never seen a monster move like that. Not the speed, not the agility, but the precision. That was no beast. That thing moved like a human. He even recognized the technique.

"It's going to throw!" he shouted, pulling his nearest fellows with him, "Get DOWN!"

The group cowered in the gigantic new shadow passing over them. The children in the hospital rooms, still unable to be rescued, screamed with glee. Godzilla's eyes went wide as something that never should have happened, never should have been possible, became reality… and he cleared them all by a wide margin, landing almost a mile further out into the city with a sound like all the hammers of Asgard smashing down at once.

No one noticed, somewhere further beyond the city, in the far valley, the wounded MUTO screaming and thrashing as a viscous red fluid climbed its torso and reduced it to nothing but steam and goop.


	2. Pre-Credits Scene

[Author's Note: Added translations for the Japanese text in brackets. While the movie never translated anything, people tell me they'd rather read it than look it up.]

World of New Legends, February 2016

In the Southern Ocean, near Antarctica, fifty miles North of the Ross Ice Shelf.

In serene and beautiful dark navy waters a single ship plied the waves. The large vessel, nearly seventy meters of bright blue metal, with REASEARCH prominently displayed in white lettering on the side, slid across the waters at a leisurely pace. Her solid presence a reassuring facet of humanity's power out even on these far seas.

"Kore.[There.]" a man on the high bow of the ship said as he pointed, getting a second sailor's attention, "Yaku shihyaku mētoruda to omoimasu.[About four hundred meters I think.]"

"Masu shihyaku mētoruda to omoimasu.[You think four hundred meters.]" the second man parroted, nodding and turning the device he was manning, a large and powerful harpoon launcher, to the hunt.

"Ii, ii.[Good, good.]" the first said.

The man, Japanese in manner and aspect, turned and took a risky hop over some equipment that had been hastily placed near his perch. He headed back to the bridge and waved the attention of those on the bridge just to be sure they'd catch him talking. A wave back confirmed that he had been noted. Smoothly pulling up his microphone he glanced left and right, then nodded to one of the five security men that were nearby before pressing the talk.

"Shihyaku mētoru, azuma· tōnan wa, sukoshi ugen watashitachi o motarasu.[Four hundred meters, East South East, bring us slightly starboard.]" he spoke into the mic.

"Azuma· tōnan, ugen mawashimasu ai ai.[East-South-East, turning starboard, aye!]" a voice called back over the speakers, "Kita no owarine ni rēdā sesshoku.[Radar contact to the North closing.]"

Grumbling the man on the fore deck looked down and thought a moment, then came back with, "Tāgetto ni suru tame no jikan? Renraku suru jikan ni kurabete?[Time to target, compared to time to contact?]"

"Yodanwoyurusanai.[Too close to call.]"

"Sore wa kareradesu ka?[It's them?]"

"Massugu watashitachi ni kuru? Koko ni?[Coming straight at us? Here?]"

"Sou, karera wa. Watashi wa chōdo nē. Watashi no ki no shigoto o suru koto wa dekimasen.[Right, them. Can't just do my damn job.]" the man said a bit upset, then turned back to the gunner and hopped up near him "Sore o anata no saikō no shotto. Saichō han'i o ataemasu.[Hey! Give it your best shot. Longest range.]"

"Hai![Yes!]" the gunner confirmed with a nod, sighting in as the ship began to turn.

The first man gripped his microphone tightly then let it back on its strap. He glared in front of the ship as a whale there surfaced, its breath spouting in the distance.

Out to the North the bright blue whaling ship had been spotted. Looking for all the world like a grayish white arrow a vessel sped at astonishing speed towards its target. The eyes of all on the deck and the bridge of the trimaran locked onto first the massive blue harvester, and then to its target.

"The Yūshin is on one." the man at the wheel pointed out, "There."

Another man with binoculars put them down and without a second thought ordered, "Block their shot." his words brimming with a subtle malice.

"On their timing." the helmsman responded, pressing the throttles forward.

"Bridge to crew, we're at battle stations." the other called over the loudspeaker, "Clear the stern and watch for flying objects."

Deep in the Southern Ocean two ships closed on each other. One moving with calm diligence, the other at breakneck speed. Both crawled with activity. Crew members racing around, all but preparing for combat. In the bridge of one ship, and the bow of another, two men held a tense competition. Their eyes were set, the rest of the world didn't matter. Only their own personal quests drove them, one for protection, one for duty. The rest of the world be damned.

The gray-white dart, a type of ship called a stabilized monohull, because why keep names simple, cut through the water, trying to do the best version of a power slide its light construction could handle.

The gunner on the blue ship targeted carefully. He was taking a shot at the best range he could. His finger preparing to trigger his launcher as the other ship began sliding just into the edge of his tunneled perceptions.

With a stern scowl the gunner pressed the trigger. The harpoon flew through the air, riding the blast from its launcher. It's cable trailing behind it as its owner called to his ancestors for luck.

With a stern scowl the helmsman pushed his boat to the limit. The sharp blade cut deep, sliding towards the whale. It's owner whispered a quiet prayer to God for deliverance.

Then a mouth wider than a city bus emerged from the water, snapped shut around the whale and disappeared below the waves.

The men on the bow of the harvester dropped their jaws in shock.

The men on the bridge of the other vessel glanced around in confusion.

The harpoon pierced the gray-white ship high on the superstructure and deflected slightly before continuing on, uselessly to the sea. It was debatable if anyone noticed till later.

As to whether or not the whale would have been hit… sort of an academic question really.

Only the people on the bridge of the Bardot had even enough of their wits about them to talk.

"Was that… was that?" the helmsman stuttered.

The other man looked over at him with a shrug then added, "Maybe it's actually a good thing we changed the name of the ship."

* * *

An hour later the gray-white trimaran was abuzz with activity. Floating still in the water the crew rushed back and forth along the deck struggling with a thick cable that was stretched across their ship from front to back.

"Come on, pull carefully." one of the hands said as he worked on the cable in the front, "If we pull too hard we could cause more damage."

"Got it, got it." a girl in the back responded, threading the cable around the back and away from fouling the engines, "No hurry."

"We don't want them to move to far off." a man next to her added, pulling the cable away from the radar equipment.

The girl just smirked and nodded at the big blue boat about a half mile away from them, "Even if they do move, doesn't look like they'll be catching any more whales."

A glance in that direction and the fellow had to agree. It was neither hard to miss the three rows of enormous spines sticking out of the water from behind the blue boat, nor the sound of loud exasperated cursing wafting over the wind across the distance.

"Watashitachi kara sore o nigeru! Sā! Sore o oiharau![Get it away from us! Come on! Drive it off!]"

"Anata wa sore ga totemo kantanda to omoimasu ka? Watashi wa sore o ya~tsu te koko de anata no ue ni hyōji sa renai![You think it's so easy? I don't see you over here doing it!]"

A dozen men, many using gaff hooks, others using random things as push poles, were poking and prodding at the gigantic gray flank alongside them. The ship rocked on occasion as Godzilla settled in.

"Ah! Gojira! Gojira!" just too many people insisted on shouting. On the deck the lead man shook his head and looked at the whole scene from underneath the bridge. A swarm of men near him were talking their options over.

"Wareware wa sore o utsubeki ka?[Should we shoot at it?]" one of the security men asked, "Do no yōna mizu no taihō wa dōdesu ka?[What about the water cannons?]"

"Dare kangae wa arimasen.[No idea.]" the man apparently in charge responded then weighing the chances, looked over towards the men manning the harpoon, "Anata ga shotto o shutoku suru koto wa dekimasu ka?[Can you get a shot?]"

The harpoon man signaled negative and pointed back, "Kare wa chikaidesushi, haigo ni aru, wareware wa hi ni fune o idō suru hitsuyō ga arimasu.[He's close and behind, we need to move the ship to fire.]"

Dashing over the catwalk the man in charge motioned the bridge to get the ship moving. The helm was only too happy to get away from their giant guest.

"Watashi wa kare ga kujira no chi o nioida to omoimasu.[I think he smells whale blood.]" the gunner pointed out the slick of red on the front of their ship, "Kare wa yori ōku no shokuryō no tame no watashitachi ni tsuiseki.[He's following us for more food.]"

"Kare wa kubi ni era o motte imasu.[He has gills on the neck.]" the first man said, looking closely at Godzilla's bulk, "Hitto suru no wa muzukashī subekide wa arimasen.[Shouldn't be hard to hit.]"

As the vessel and the giant pulled apart, Godzilla not quite maneuverable enough to keep tight with his target, the gunner managed to get the harpoon launcher around over the high sided bow and aim it towards his target. Someone started shouting from the bridge.

"Ōkina mokuhyō o mita koto ga nai.[Never seen a bigger target.]" the gunner remarked with a grin, and triggered the harpoon. The flying spear flew true into the space between Godzilla's gills.

"Anata wa shōki ka![Are you insane!?]" the ship's captain screamed, storming up the catwalk and pointing over at Godzilla, "Anata wa Gojira ga kono fune ni nanigadekiruka shitte imasu ka?[Do you know what Gojira could do to this ship?]"

"Eh?" the man and the gunner looked at each other, then at Godzilla, then back, and blanched. It seemed to be the first time they'd noticed that the giant monster was more than four times as long as their vessel.

"Wareware wa amarini mo ōku no watashitachi no shigoto ni shūchū shita.[We were focused too much on our work.]" the first man said, bowing his head in shame, "Anata wa watashi no mottomo seijitsuna shazai o motte imasu.[You have my most sincere apology.]"

"Anata ga shita baai wa···[If you've...]" the Captain started. His tirade was interrupted by a shout from the men nearer to Godzilla. A hand the size of their bow had risen from the water and was looming over the vessel. Crying screams of one sort or another sounded from half the people there, quiet prayers were on the lips of the rest.

After a few moments of floating above the whaler like the Sword of Damocles, dripping seawater onto the deck, Godzilla's giant, clawed hand reached over to his neck and gave his gills a drawn out scratch. In a few movements the remains of the harpoon came free from where they were stuck and splashed into the water.

The gunner leaned over his launcher, breathing a sigh of relief. The Captain fell to his knees, finding his breath after holding it for far too long. The first man just stared in disbelief for a second before he found his voice.

"Wareware wa yori ōkina fune o hitsuyō to shite imasu.[We're going to need a bigger boat.]"

Scaring the hell out of the men standing there, and setting their already frayed nerves just on the edge of sanity, Godzilla's huge head rose from the sea. He glanced to the right, away from them and with a splash that could have easily been mistaken for a rogue wave, dove. It took only a minute for the spiraling giant to dip all but his spines below the waves and reverse course.

The men on the whaler started to cheer, but the sound died in their throats. Over the sounds of the seas and even Godzilla parting the waves a frightening, unmistakable sound could be heard. The sound of metal, buckling and tearing en masse, brought another panic to all the seamen in sight. This time it was not themselves they were concerned for. Somewhere nearby a ship, a large one, was dying.

* * *

Wheeling about in the sky a white helicopter, piled full of people, tried desperately to gain altitude. It's pilot had managed to get at few hundred feet into the sky even with the load. Desperation could do that to a person. Somehow, maybe because of how loud the screams were, or maybe because of his fevered imagination, the pilot could swear he still heard the people left behind.

"Come on! Come on! Get out of there!"

"Watashi no ashi wa, watashi no ashi ga kieta!"

"Sorehanandesuka?"

"Nigeru! Nigeru!"

"Run! Run!"

Below, in the dark blue ocean, miles from anywhere, two vessels sat side by side. The pair were both dead in the water, stopped still. One was a long black vessel with a large deck and many protruding structures. The other a ship was less than half as long, colored in a strange urban camouflage scheme. Crew scrambled around both ships and there was a mad dash to get as many people from the larger vessel to the smaller.

"Come on! Come on!" a balding man was still shouting in English, pushing people towards his boat. He flinched as another one of the taller nearby structures came crashing down, pulling the radar mast and a number of connected wires with it.

A man was screaming on the far deck. The falling wires had caught him and taken a chunk out of his body. His blood mixed with the rest, for the ship had been covered with blood, even before the attack. Maybe the blood pouring out of the spillage ports had attracted it in the first place. None of it mattered now, just the dying and the fleeing.

The whaling factory ship, a vessel bloodied by its own duty in the dispatch and dissection of giant whales, now was beginning to tilt away from the vessel, normally its enemy, that was trying to save its crew. A few men slipped, many held on. Others dragged them up, most of the time they came back with a seaman, other times only half or less.

On the far side of the vessel it was like the blood itself, cast incautiously into the water, had come alive seeking revenge. A breathtaking wave of viscous red fluid stood as if frozen over the deck and poured itself onto the ship, In defiant denial of gravity the red mass strove up the sides of the factory vessel and lashed out at anything moving, trailing sparks and bleeding smoke.

The man, cut by wires just a moment earlier, was touched by the thing. In seconds there was nothing but electrical arcs and bones where he lay. In a few more moments even that was gone. It had been like that with everything. The balding man averted his eyes and knew for sure the reason there where no whales on the deck, nor even half the crew here there should have been.

Above them, latched onto the side of the stricken ship for support, the wave of red fluid reached upwards to the height of the tallest mast. It towered above all of them and many screamed, afraid it was about to fall forward and wipe them all from the world.

Looking back the Captain of the second ship glanced down to see how far a jump it would be to get back to his vessel. He'd probably break a leg not using the ladders, but it would most certainly be worth the pain to stay alive. A few of the Japanese had tumbled off in the shaking and his crew were tending to some and pulling the rest out of the waves. It was only a matter of seconds before he would have to leap too, but like hell would he desert any living being to die while he could help pull even one more man to safely.

The ship shook again. Everyone looked up, expecting the wave to fall past the remaining masts and onto them all, but the great red expanse was retreating. Flowing away it took more than a minute for the entire mass to disengage itself in an almost painful looking series of wrenching movements before the boat was clear. Without the tons of extra weight pushing it off-balance the factory ship bounced upwards and righted itself so quickly it hit its neighbor with a resounding bong like some lone bell sounding out from the deep.

Grabbing a boarding ladder to hold himself steady the rescuer looked around with confusion and concern. The screams of pain had not let up and there was a lot of work to do. He and half a dozen Japanese men crossed the ship while others broke out every emergency kit and first aid box on both vessels. The deck was still a whirl of confusion.

"Kore da!" one of the Japanese men called out, pointing and while the Captain hadn't caught the words he didn't need them to know the meaning. Out in the sea, already almost a half mile away from the two ships, a slick of red colored the waters. The way the whole thing stuck together and moved faster than many speedboats unnerved him.

"Why did it leave?" he voiced, almost subconsciously, not expecting an answer.

"It's a predator." a voice with a strong Japanese accent responded from beside him, and the Captain noted to his surprise that one of the people he would never have considered a true researcher actually spoke halting English as the man continued, "The only reason it would leave, would be, if it sensed prey, something bigger than us."

"That doesn't leave many things." the Captain said, mulling it over, "What's a bigger concentration of life than us out here?"

"We're about, to see." the researcher replied, pointing towards the sea, "It's boiling,"

The man's words rung true. Out nearly a mile from the paired ships the water was a churning red soup. Something large was struggling just beneath the surface. The battle was joined on the scale of ancient colossi as the great red mass bubbled, slithered, fretfully over something that wasn't quite falling as fast as a man or a dead whale, something with a hint of scales and spine.

When Godzilla broke the surface, bellowing like all the beasts of Africa had decided to scream obscenities at the sky in chorus, hell did finally and truly break loose. Roaring and scratching the great one shook and twisted, trying to get loose the horrid mass that coated him in connected red splotches. Arcs of electricity jumped from giant spine to giant spine while Godzilla's skin steamed like fresh lava touching seawater.

Tendrils of red reached up and wrapped themselves around Godzilla's neck, burning at him with their strange touch and fighting to get into his gills. The great saurian behemoth used its mass and tail to push itself upwards, ripping at the offensive gunk that attacked it. Back down the mass pulled at him and he roared again. Up Godzilla strove and down the thing pulled. The ocean around them boiled as more and more of the red gunk reached up to topple the titan in its grasp.

With a strong heave Godzilla flexed his back and pulled at the lassoes of syrup confining him. His nostrils flaring Godzilla let loose and even louder roar of indignation as his foe pulled him down. Pulling to the left and the right the red stuff got Godzilla's chin to the water, then sunk his head. The spikes on his back began to disappear under those crimson seas. The giant's head broke the surface again as he struggled. The look on his face, even as animalistic as it was, read as incensed rage for a moment before he was pulled back under.

The men on the factory ship gasped in amazement as the giant beast sank further into the water. Their eyes were open wide, their jaws slack in amazement. The battle before them was incomprehensible, the scale, the mass, and now… that strange blue glow.

The spines at the tip of Godzilla's tail lit. The inner fire caught with the sound of grinding gears meshed in under that of a charging dynamo as it traveled from one spine to another, ascending the giant's back. The tip of his tail sunk below the waves but the red slime was no longer following it. It breached the surface in a mass that quickly turned into an expanding red ring. The substance of it lapped over itself, spreading as if each part of that fluid was trying to get as far away from what lie beneath as fast as possible. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough.

Godzilla burst out of the water, his spines glowing blue, his chest burling as air filled his lungs, then with a sudden lunge forward he let fly the beam. Swinging his shoulders and head from right to left, his tail pushing him to complete the arc his blue plasma flame scoured the ocean's surface. The red slick burned like oil.

Finishing his circle Godzilla set the world aflame.


	3. The Passage of Time

The world before knowledge.

Much further North.

Even on the side of a mountain it was oppressively hot and humid so close to the equator. Trees of many types spread out as far as the eye could see. The early morning sun beat down on the jungle landscape.

Through the trees there were hints of movement. Birds flitted from place to place and the odd animal crawled or slithered here and there. Something else moved in a group silently through the wilderness but in a small sunny clearing along their path, the sound of a loud radio shifting through channels would have covered a multitude of sins.

Twenty men, all wearing various shades of green, milled about doing little but trying to get out of the hot sun. The sun had just risen past the mountain to their East and things had taken a languid turn. Many sat around, working on the mix of guns and weapons they were carrying. A few took care of their ammunition, either slipping bullets into extra clips for their antiquated but common AK rifles, or laying out the ammo bandoliers they'd been wearing so that the newly risen sun didn't make the metal uncomfortably hot. Others sauntered around, carrying their guns at ready while headed from place to place while one man worked the tuning on an older model radio, trying to find a good AM station for the news.

The radio blared English as he hit a good station during a report, "Sixty Philippine soldiers suspected of involvement in bank robberies have been removed from their assignments and sent on combat missions against communist rebels, the armed forces reported Wednesday. The soldiers, mostly privates, were members of a security force assigned to guard the Camp Aguinaldo general military headquarters in Manila."

A few laughs broke out as the radio operator tried a different station, "Chinese Lunar New Year is Tomorrow, prepare for the festivities…"

Uncaring, the radio man, a swarthy fellow wrapped in olive clothing to help camouflage him in the jungle, switched to a different station, "…President Corazon Aquino today called for…"

Amidst a chorus of boos the man switched channels again, quickly this time, "…announces that the 24-hour air campaign continues with 67,000 sorties flown, focusing on Scud sites and the Republican Guard. More images of dead civilians from yesterdays air strike on a Baghdad bunker in the residential al-Amerieh district, which Iraqi officials insist had been converted into an air raid shelter, have filtered into worldwide news services. American officials race to decry the images as faked. Sources indicate a major announcement by the Bush administration is coming tomorrow."

Two dark-skinned, black-haired, men walked over and motioned their fellow off the radio. They both crouched down beside it before switching the set over to FM.

"May gani wala ta didto." The first mentioned, fiddling with the dial, "ka-ubo jud ng mga buanga na."

"Sus, unsa may labot nato sa ilaha." The other replied, smacking the first's hand away, "mas importante pa ang atong gina storya."

The first laughed as he rubbed his hand, "sa tinuod lang, nindot ang ilahang kanta."

A few eyes fell on the pair as they randomly switched between stations. They were making a lot of noise, fighting over the dial. Not many people seemed to care.

"Kung gusto ka'g shagit-shagit ug kanang ibangbang imuhang ulo murag rocker." The second retorted with a chuckle, "Mas naa may exposure ang akua. Ug dili man gago ang drummer."

"At least naay duha ka kamot ang gago." The first man countered, rubbing his scruffy beard and stabbing his hand forward to turn the dial back.

The second man, the slightly bigger of the two, pushed one hand in the first's face and yanked the dial back so hard the radio couldn't keep up and all it made was a squeal, "unsa may ginahimo sa imong laki sa ilaha? Boom boom boom lang pirminti."

In the far corner of the camp another militant, an older looking man with a fuller but better trimmed beard, looked up from his maps and growled. Shaking his head decided to put up with the loud pair no longer.

"Tama na nang sige'g lalis ana beh. Dapat loyal mo sa islam." He said in rebuke. The pair just looked at him in confusion.

"Unsa ma'y atraso aning rock and roll sa Islam?" They said almost together.

The older man's rage grew and a vein began to throb visibly on his forehead, "Kanta na sa demonyo, ayaw mo'g paminaw ana!"

It caught everyone at the camp by surprise when the pair started laughing at him and turned back to the radio, obviously not impressed by his rant. It seemed that the older men in the camp had little control over the younger ones.

The first stopped laughing and motioned towards the older man, talking to whoever would listen, "Unsa may problema niya, pwede ta mag debate diri. Mindanao ni dili maski asa."

"Paminaw nimo pangayuon namo siya ug ham sandwich." The other chuckled, looking back to the radio.

The older man snorted and looked to those crouching near him with the words, "mga bugo, kung mutawag ang grupong abu sayyaf dili na nako sila i-recommend."

There were some appreciative nods as the older man looked up towards the pair and started shouting, "Ug palunga ng radyo kay saba kaa..."

He never got the rest of the words out. The sight of something moving like a shadow in the bushes past the pair caught the words in his throat. A small, hollow, black cylinder slid into sight. The older man's eyes grew wide, but for a second.

Tick Tick, Tick… a sound hidden in the blare of hard rock.

The older men fell backwards, sprouting a pair of bloodstains from his chest as one blossomed on his head. The men near him looked over confused. Besides the sound of the radio the clearing descended into a sudden silence. Men began falling over. Small bursts of blood sprayed from people almost randomly and with nothing but the sound of music hiding the thud of objects impacting flesh. Confusion was total. Surprise was complete. Not a militant in the clearing got off a shot, managed to take cover or even figured how to defend themselves.

It was over. The last body hit the ground less than nine seconds after the first shot. There was stillness for almost half a minute before a hand signal was given and three, half unseen, men carefully skirted the clearing, checking every possible contingency until they were confident and gave a hand sign back. Five men with dark clothes, warm weather hats and green face paint broke into the clearing like a bolt from nowhere. They slipped quietly and confidently different spots. Three headed to the ridge on the far end of the clearing and went prone against it while the others, staying low, began to retrieve every map, communication and radio setting they could find.

"What are you guys doing?" a voice called out from where they had come, "That radio will cover a multitude of sins."

"Didn't realize there would be much shooting on this cakewalk." another voice said, more sensibly lower than the first, "Did you hear that report? Things are heating up over there."

A number of soldiers, quiet in their own way but much louder than the first group, moved almost leisurely into the clearing and took up covering positions. Most of the men were young, and blatantly American from their accent if the boonie hats on their heads, the easy smiles, the and Marine kit they were wearing hadn't been enough of a signal.

"Yeah, and we're stuck over here in east bumble nowhere, a quarter of the world away." another responded, keeping his voice under the music on the radio as he kept an eye on the wilderness.

"Don't talk too much about East Bumble." a Marine said as he cleared the brush, "I'm from there, and it's in Pennsylvania."

"Sorry to inform you but they moved your town." one of the first chuckled, "It's in West Virginia now."

"Men are men?"

"Sheep are scared."

There was some sedate laughter and back patting as the Marines set about the camp, their purpose debatable. On the ridge towards where they were headed the three soldiers just glanced at each other in bemused silence. The one in the middle, a man just as dark as those he'd just killed, as much as could have been told under his face paint, directed the other two with quick hand motions. The one to his left, probably a redhead had his hair not been darkened by some splotchy dye, nodded and started to crawl on his belly up to the ridge. The one on his right, a blond-haired, blue-eyed, country boy tried to respond with hand signals but began to get frustrated quickly.

He thought his situation over for a second then whispered to the man beside him, "Why are they so loud?"

His commander smiled back. The look on the relatively young blonde's face, relatively because he had at least five years on the Marines behind them, make him appear if he wanted to shout his statement to the world.

"I can't blame them Hawkins." he replied quietly, "We were all just tossed out here with practically no intel or advanced recon. Hell we were almost kicked off the boats into the zodiac. I can't imagine what those Marines went through."

"I don't even know why we need them Chief." Hawkins bemoaned.

"No recon, no one's going through another Panama, we need bodies." the Chief replied then pointed back, "See, bodies."

The blonde soldier let out a quiet snort of derision, "I don't need recon for this job, people getting in my way, or anything unnecessary going on in my head and distracting me from what I have to kill."

"You never were one to put much thought into things." the Chief said with a shrug, "But we can point you at things and you make them dead, so there's always room for you."

"Don't be so flattering Chief." the younger soldier said with a grunt and turned away to make sure the Marines at least didn't turn the radio off, but to his surprise they were too busy listening to it.

"Heh, you'll find your place one day." the commander remarked mostly to himself as he turned up and gave the soldier who'd crested the ridge another signal. The confusing hand sign he got back forced him repeat the sign as he low crawled up to see what was going on.

"I don't think we brought enough bullets." the soldier whispered as the Chief came up. He was about to look over the ridge when a voice to his right caught him short.

"We'll just have to make them last longer."

The Chief glanced over at Hawkins who was practically right beside him already, even though he'd not been even looking in the right direction when his commander started up the ridge. The fact that the young man had caught up with him, soundlessly, without sparking a bit of notice impressed the older soldier. Taking it into account for later the man looked up over the ridge and gasped in shock.

"Dali kuhaa na!"

Down over the forty-foot ledge was a larger open field, but this one had been obviously cleared from the jungle, right down to the dirt, and leveled with heavy equipment. Thousands of people, possibly almost ten thousand, hurried about the clearing, carrying things, moving machinery and generally making themselves useful. The scene wouldn't have looked out of place had the people in it not been such a random bunch. Business executives still in their suits worked side by side with women of the night and men that looked like they'd lived under a bridge for years and hadn't bathed all the while. Some women even had babies with them as they cleared rock and refuse from the center of the open area.

In the midst of it all rose a gantry with catwalks and machinery. Below the conglomeration yawned a large, man-made, delving. A deep mine had been holed straight down into the earth, out in the middle of a jungle, near an active volcano.

The absurdity of the whole scene made those viewing it twitch. That still didn't stop their detached, professional, eyes from picking out men standing along the entry points to the plain with firearms not held but on straps and ready to be brought up and fired at any time.

"Thirty five gunmen, one lead near the hole." the redhead pointed out, "Can't count the civvies, there are way to many, but if it matches the number of missing, maybe fifteen thousand."

"We'll take losses breaking into that." the blonde pointed out, "There's no way to sneak in."

"Hali diri!"

"Now aren't you glad we brought the Marines?" the Chief said with a glance back and a grin, and after he gave the Marines an appreciative wave he added, "Time for them to earn their pay."

With nods and grins the three soldiers slid back off the ridge. Down on the cleared plain, one man, the one that the redhead had pointed out as lead, glanced up to where the soldiers has just been. A knowing smile split his features as one of his eyes gleamed gold.

* * *

World of New Legends, a quarter of a century later.

Six hundred miles North-West , on the outskirts of Manila, Philippines.

"Isda! Isda! And Isda ko may kaunting Mercury kesa sa iba!"

The open air market was a bustle of activity. Dozens of people coming and going made anyone getting anywhere in particular something of a challenge. The vendors called out in their native tongues as people meandered this way and that while shopping.

In the midst of the locals a few foreigners, some more obvious than others, could be picked out from the crowd. Here and there an Australian accent cut through the ruckus. Occasionally the sounds of people talking in proper Queens English came from taller Europeans here and there. Through it all a man wearing a black hat strode with definite purpose.

"G1 this is G5, G1 this is G5."

"Ito bang prutas ay hinog?"

"G1, G1, come in Chief."

Sighing, the man in the hat stopped and leaned up against a tree. He was tall, well-built, and out of place for the heat of the area, wore mostly black from his hat to his trousers. Only his shirt, a mottled gray color, stood out from the rest. Even the light windbreaker he wore was black.

Taking a glance around the man talked to no one in particular, "What's going on, any changes?"

"There you are Chief." that high-pitched voice in his ear spoke back, "We're getting cross chatter from multiple sources in your area and we've been just trying to clean it up."

The Chief nodded to no one in particular. He absent-mindedly scratched his throat with a thumb, sending a noise to the tiny microphone implanted therein. His receiver, implanted near his ear, crackled in reply.

The man reached into his windbreaker and pulled out a book that was slightly smaller than a dime novel. He smiled and looked appraisingly at the author's name, Ehsan Yarshater, in gold lettering on the spine, then nodded and put it away in favor of a smart phone.

"G5, confirm target location." he said, thumbing up the image of a man, a middle easterner by his complexion. There were multiple images of the man, who was always dressed as if he was going to work, in different groups of people, many of them with guns.

"He's still up at the cement works." the voice in his ear responded, "You were right. Spotters confirm other members of the Revolutionary Guard have secured the area."

"Thought they'd hole up there." the man said with a nod, "Good lines of sight, easy egress, and access to their target. Tell the *spotters* not to slip up."

"Don't worry, she won't." the voice advised with a serious tone, "You'd better change into kit, but G1 are you sure about this. I know it's you Chief but twenty-five well-trained, armed, men… they're very serious customers and you're barely armed. You might as well be walking up to them and tweaking their noses."

"Handle your own concerns G5, you just keep on the sat and cam feeds. I'll handle my own job."

The land sung out with the rumble of heavy equipment. Dump trucks, pay loaders and bulldozers trundled their way past buildings full of complex machinery and covered in rock dust. Beyond them a strip mine stood out past the trees like a yellow scar in the mountainside. Cleared out of the thick Philippine forests the buildings, vehicles and dirty yellow-white roads stole their land from nature. Looking like nothing less than a wound in the planet the area surrounding the Cement factory stood as conclusive proof of how highly natural beauty stood in mankind's eye when money was involved. The world paid more for concrete under their feet than for forests cleaning their air, so the forests had to go, in patches, and the Earth had to be ripped and raped, in plots, for human progress.

The cement works itself was huge. Along with its corresponding strip mine there was more than a mile of bare dirt and rock in the middle of the forest. At the South end tall buildings and cement processing equipment stood out, looming over even the tallest trees, while two long buildings nearly the size of large strip malls sat along the Eastern side near the woods.

Atop the Easternmost building, running with both and unusually fast and incredibly silent gait, was a single lone figure. Dashing down the slope of the roof he leapt off it, across a thin access road, and onto the next building without making a sound.

Dropping down like a second skin on his new perch the Chief looked for his next placement. He'd planned things out from satellite map but avoiding lines of sight was more of a problem for the here and now. To fit in to the whitish-gray buildings and soil he'd changed clothes to a gray t-shirt and loose-fitting urban camo pants. His light complexion and blonde hair seemed to be helping as well, though he'd chosen his path to avoid line of sight so precisely he probably could have worn bright pink without attracting attention.

Slipping down onto the covered platforms over the conveyor system he slipped quickly along the skyway. He had to be careful, far more than usual, since there was no cover up on the roof and none of these places were really designed to hold human weight for more than occasional maintenance. Quiet movement hadn't been in the design plans either and keeping quiet over what was basically sheet metal was taxing his skills.

"You're right that there's only one guard at the chosen entry." G5 was speaking in his ear, "But he's probably more there to lead people out in case of emergency instead of stopping anyone from getting in. That building is a warren of hazards, choking dust, limited visibility, and blind turns with no clear map. No one's getting in that way."

The Chief smiled and nodded. He knew the spotters could see the motion and it would relay back to the screens. Catching him in real-time from overhead would be much harder, but they couldn't really tell a nod from orbit anyway.

He could be a little less silent on the approach as his path took him over a number of loud vehicles and even louder machinery. It still took him a while to get over all the long buildings and lower himself down, unseen above the guard. The man on duty looked positively bored as he looked from side to side, keeping an eye on the plant workers, though he obviously didn't see them as a threat for as little time he gave them, and gave occasional scrutiny to the vehicles that passed.

"This one's going to be hard." G5 warned in his ear, "He's hard to see on sat and the spotters say he doesn't move around much. Watch for his weapon hidden behind him, if he gets a shot off…"

CLUNK!

"You are the luckiest son of a bitch…" G5 groaned with only a hint of envy, "How the hell did you get him to fall like that? He just looks like he's asleep."

The Chief shook his head as he peeked into the door way from the top, then bothered to speak to the voice in his ear with a few quick words that were so sub-vocalized they never passed his lips "That's the point."

"Yeah yeah, some days you make this look to easy you know." G5 said with a pout in his voice.

The Chief had already disappeared into the building, crawling in upside down in a very non-military sanctioned movement that would have done a gecko proud.

"Good luck Hawkins."


	4. An Unexpected Discourse

Norzagaray Cement Plant

Three Minutes Later

One of the truisms of the concrete business is that those who produce it, often are its first users. As such even the office buildings around the plant contained their fair share of concrete, simply because it was readily available. Inside one such building in the front corner of the complex, near the main shipping docks and a pond, an unusual group had taken up temporary residence. As a group they fit in rather well in their working attire. Their complexion, while not the Spanish and Polynesian mix of the locals, was just tanned enough to match rather well and keep them from standing out if one was looking from any distance.

To most people they were just like the foreign delegation inspecting the plant and collating their findings that they were supposed to be. They constantly looked over the plant workings. In their collection of facts and figures they had detailed analysis of materials, chemical composition, by-product production, air quality, work hours, labor research… Dozens of different criteria, which while ridiculously thorough, could if one stretched credulity a bit, be the needs of a terrifically picky client with a lot of time to waste.

If there was something to put lie to their pretense, the two men walking through the corridors of the plant, smiling and nodding to the locals, and putting in some random chit-chat with their associates as they hunched over pages full of numbers, visually would not be it. One, tall and bald, with a bit of ex-military poise to him, chatted amicably with the other, a shorter man whose demeanor, slightly hunched and sighing off and on cue, seemed terribly world-weary. Still, both were quite smartly dressed in blue business shirts, sans tie, and gray twill pants. They radiated corporate competence. If only the local staff was fluent in Persian, they probably would have noted some problems with the duo.

_Translated from Persian/Farsi_

"_Very good, very good_." the taller man was saying, looking over the facts and figures from one of the staff, "_We have confirmation of numbers and disposition_?"

The Iranian staff member nodded, and handed the tall man a sheet of facts and figures not unlike the half a dozen on his desk.

Looking back to the shorter man the taller said with a broad smile, "_It seems like the problems we may have had on that end will be fixed shortly_." and handed the form back to his underling.

"_That is very good Zakaria_." the shorter man said with a nod as he and his compatriot carried on down out of the office and into another corridor, " _I'll admit I was surprised when an important Ansar-Ul-Mehdi like yourself was sent to work with a humble basij like myself_…"

"_The Imam thought this operation was important enough to send one of his own protectors Doctor_." Zakaria interrupted, sounding important and sagely, "_Even Soleimani would never have approved of such a bold action were it not for the nature of the threat_."

"_So we are here, so far from home_." the shorter said with a sigh, "_Your men_?"

"_Busy advancing plans and reviewing the security situation. Your friends are a little lax_." the big man admitted, "_Nothing that twenty Qod from Pāsdārān e Enqelāb can't fix quite quickly. We are very good at that in the Sepāh. Though I would rather that we were a little more familiar operating together. We did have to rush more than usual_."

"_You came to the rescue with admirable speed my good fellow_." the doctor replied, "_You seemed to have few problems getting in_."

"_Thank the accidental aid of the Sunni in the South_." Zakaria remarked with another of his huge smiles, "_All of our enemies eyes are watching down there. I've noted the average westerner can't tell a Shia from a Sunni even if you explain it to them. It seems to be helping for now, but smarter minds will undoubtedly get hold of the data eventually. One unit in particular_."

"_You can tell me about that in a bit. I'm a physicist. I do devices, not getting them places and who to get them past_." the shorter man advised as they turned a corner and checked in with one of their guards, then continued with an edge of incredulity creeping into his voice, "_We are good? The Russians are actually holding to their part of the deal_?"

"_They have more defenses against the… *problem* than we do, yet also far more_ _to lose_." the larger man replied, glancing up and about as they passed through an area with a higher ceiling, "_We have the two large, lead-lined, suitcases you asked for, though they are prohibitively heavy, and the strontium ninety to put in them_."

"_Good, good. My office is down this way_. " the doctor said with a nod then motioned towards one hallway, "…_and your, one unit in particular_?"

"_A group my Qod comrades met in Iraq during the American's invasion. They were defending the remains of an Osiris class nuclear reactor that had been destroyed by the Zionists decades ago. Both sides took casualties, but they never broke and proved formidable foes, ones we have reason to believe are operating in this area_." Zakaria explained, "_and the travels of the infamous Doctor Mostafa Ochbelagh, when he approaches such an area where they are active in, will surely bring their attention_."

"_Heh, infamous so soon_." the doctor replied with a sigh.

"_You are considered a hero to the revolution, and were very important to us even before your… unfortunate change in circumstances_."

"_What a nice way to put it_." Dr. Ochbelagh said with disgust and sarcasm dripping through his words, "_So your formidable friends. They are a danger to our operation_?"

The pair turned a final corner and came to a hallway with one door on the right while Zakaria continued to speak, "_Possibly, they have one_…" he said then stopped and motioned down the hallway, "_You have no guards in this hall_?"

"_That is my office there_." the doctor replied, moving towards the door, "_and that way is into the main plant, a more confusing warren of hot, dusty, practically impassable machinery, filled with workers and choking cement particulates I have never seen, but we do have a guard on the outside entrance_."

"_It will have to be worked on_." the big man said as the doctor got out his keys and unlocked the door, then started in before Zakaria could suggest going first wasn't the best idea, so he just continued, "_There is one man in particular_…"

"_Oh there you are doctor_." a voice interrupted Zakaria as Mostafa entered the room, "_I've been hoping I'd catch you to ask you about your insistence on referring to Iran as Persia in your peripheral works_."

KA-CHACK

The first thing Dr. Mostafa Ochbelagh found unusual in the moment he'd entered his office was the American man sitting on his desk, in dusty gray fatigues, looking intently into a small hand book of some sort. The second thing he noticed unusual was the rather miraculously produced automatic pistol that was now resting over his shoulder and pointed at the new man. He would have sworn just seconds ago that his associate Zakaria was not armed in any way.

"_Your 'one man in particular' I suppose_?" the doctor asked his guardian with neither the least hint of fear nor the appearance that anything was out of place. He could practically feel Zakaria's nod over his shoulder.

"_Oh I don't mind your friend doctor_." the new man, a strongly built blond, said without raising his eyes, "_I was just wondering why you insist on using Persia, a name taken from Greece, to describe your own country when more noted individuals suggest Arya and therefore Iran would be the proper term_."

"A sincere enough question." the doctor said, switching to a slightly accented English while ducking under Zakaria's gun and heading for a stove and tea set on the right side of the room, "I suppose you'd rather an answer in English? Your attempt at Farsi being halfway decent aside, I can tell you'd be more comfortable there."

"_Doctor_." Zakaria said sternly to bring the man's attention to the problem at hand. The American glanced over at the tall man and all but froze him with an eerie smile. Maybe it was the way it made the trained protector, willing to throw himself in front of any adversary for his charge, feel like he was already a dead man that caused that twinge of unfamiliar fear, or maybe it was the slight sparkle of gold he caught in the man's eye as he looked at him.

"_Oh it's alright Zakaria_." the doctor replied, pointing at the wall they'd just walked past, the one between them and the office, "_That is one of the few structures here not made of concrete, if he'd wanted us dead we wouldn't be here_."

"_One does not debate gifts from Allah Doctor_."

"_Well then I'd appreciate you checking on all my people and yours_." Mostafa retorted while putting on some tea, "_Or do you think this man is alone? I'll be fine, go_." then switched to English while turning back to his guest, "I hope you don't mind I only have tea here. Coffee isn't a staple of mine."

"No that's fine." the man said, nodding and looking back to the doctor while never really taking his eyes away from Zakaria, "I can handle hot tea on occasion."

"_His name is Byran Hawkins_." the big man said, vanishing around the corner. If he was going to return, or grab his men then cut and run, the doctor was not aware of.

"Ah, Mr. Hawkins." the doctor said with a smile as he clicked up the stove heat.

"Dr. Ochbelagh." Hawkins returned with a nod.

"Well acting like your question wasn't just a very well-chosen ruse to get you in the door…" the doctor started, turning his back to the stove, "The Greek word Persia which you know refers to the East, was created from the name of my home province of Pars, the cultural homeland of the area now known as Iran. It is simply an extension and exonym that refers to the heart of my country, and is a completely preferable name to the Sassanid term eran and therefore Iran."

"That is a way of looking at it from the standpoint of pure facts." Hawkins pointed out, tapping his book, "But I wonder if it isn't also a defeatist way of looking at it."

Hawkins turned himself towards the doctor as the teapot started to steam slightly. The Iranian man cocked his head a bit and raised an eyebrow at the statement.

"Well no, really." Hawkins continued, "I have to wonder if the conquest of Iran by Greece and their subsequent naming of the entire area as Persia, which is one of their words, makes its continued use seem like the act of a conquered people."

"I've never really…" the doctor replied as his pot steamed, then bent down to look at Hawkins' book, "Wait is that… well of course that's from Ehsan Yarshater, is he still working at Columbia? He'd be in his nineties now wouldn't he? Of course he'd not want the country named after Pars. He's from Hamedan! Hell he's old enough to remember the country being Persia… did you check your sources?"

"I'm sorry if ulterior motives don't get listed in the bibliography." Hawkins said with a smile and a nod, holding the book to the side, "It seems to have done it's job anyway."

"I suppose it has, you really wouldn't give a damn if we called the whole place Grand Funk Railroad would you?" the doctor said with a laugh, getting the tea bags ready, "Is Chai ok?"

Hawkins looked around the room then nodded again with a shrug and a smile.

"But if you're making an attempt at dialogue, and trying so hard at it." the doctor posited, pouring our the water, "Well I can't imagine you're trying to *talk* me out of what I'm doing."

This time was Hawkins turn to laugh, so hard in fact he had to hold off taking the offered cup for a few seconds, before he got out, "Hell no, I'm here to help you."

"Help?!" the Iranian bomb maker almost croaked, "Wait, not stop? But why… wait, wait… You're after the MUTOs too?"

Hawkins cocked his head to the side then extended his hand to shake the doctor's and said, "We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Chief Hawkins, US Navy, and the operational lead on the American G-Unit. We make the big bad things that shouldn't live in our world dead."

The Doctor looked for a place to put his cup, and finding one, deposited it on his desk before he shook the man's hand, a bit of confusion on his face, "You do know that's not exactly in your best interest. You'll be going against your own Monarch Unit." he pointed out, "Their objectives are very clear on the topic."

"Yes yes, I read the report and it's a nice pile of dung. I can see why you're worried about it, but your government has taken a somewhat narrow, self-centered, view on the matter." Hawkins replied, putting down his book and pulling out his smart phone, "The attempt to use Insectoid MUTOs as directed, biological, anti-nuclear weapons is such a crock and such an obvious disaster in waiting everyone who knows about it is taking a stand. We hope you'll join us."

"Well… err… that's quite unexpected." Mostafa said, stuttering a bit, his expression sort of like a youth who'd just been told the test he'd just taken would give him more points for every question he got wrong, "I'm not sure I can trust such a reversal."

Hawkins paid him no mind, but simply worked on his smart phone then pointed the screen at the Doctor. Mostafa bent over to look at what was displayed. It was a three-dimensional map of something indistinct, but the Iranian recognized it quickly.

"I checked your intel when I got to your office. That was a pretty tricky way of getting yourself maps of the upper levels." Hawkins said, sounding slightly impressed, "Here's the whole thing. Do you think you could plan out a proper dispersal pattern in the next few days with this?"

The doctor chewed on a knuckle for a second, looking the display up and down, "There are a lot of variables." he pointed out, "I can't do it just from a look, could you bring that out to the printers for us to get a hard copy?"

"Printout? Really?"

"I'm a little old-fashioned." Mostafa said with a shrug, sadly looking to his now probably wasted tea, "I have a hard time with these three-dimensional models, my perspective gets screwed up without something to hold in my hands."

"Not a problem." Hawkins remarked, dropping off the desk, "I need to go that way in any case. Hope Mr. Zakaria isn't too quick with his guns."

"You treat it all like it's a regular day at work." the doctor said as he moved with Hawkins out the door.

"You wouldn't believe my regular day at work."

"I would guess not, but is it troublesome going against your own government?"

"Monarch isn't my own government Doctor." Hawkins pointed out as he also wordlessly went over the data on his phone with the bomb maker, moving the image this way and that, "G-Unit's authority is American only and comes straight from the top. Monarch hasn't felt like 'us' for a very long time."

The Doctor nodded and took the smart phone to check out a few places of note before handing the device back to Hawkins. Mostafa hid his surprise and discomfort that Hawkins had known every turn they'd made before they'd come to them, unlike his own protector. The fact that his encounter with this American was a very well preplanned and possibly even rehearsed matter crossed his mind not for the first time.

"That does happen to groups with specific powers over time." the Doctor said with a nod, "They compartmentalize and lose touch, rarely share notes. I've seen too much of it."

Hawkins could only nod and shrug yet again as he made the third turn without being told. If the fact they hadn't passed any guards on this trip was bothering either of them, neither spared the attention to show it.

"So, five containment units for creatures, on radial spokes under the hills around Angat Dam." the Doctor said, verbalizing what he had seen, "Tunnels made as a warren, both to confuse those entering without permission and to allow the maximum possible number of different egress sites for removing the creatures. This looks odd though, why such large exit tunnels?"

"Not my concern at the moment." Hawkins replied, looking at the map, "Does it make the area any harder to flood with radioactive particles?"

"No, no we have plenty." Mostafa assured him, "We only need to make certain areas inaccessible. See the extra layering of radiation absorbing materials here, and here, and also around the containment vessels makes me particularly assured that I can leave that place a dead zone while neither risking radiation leakage outside the facility nor risking giving our trapped friends a good meal."

"Getting Zakaria to trust the operation is going to be hard in the early running." the Chief explained, "We're going to have to give his Qod friends something to do. I've already got teams for clearing out the underground."

"I'm sure someone will have to clear the outbuildings and add-ons to the generator complex." Mostafa said without concern, "These special forces people never seem to be at a loss when you tell them to find something to kill."

"Quite." Hawkins said with a chuckle.

With that the two arrived side by side in the main office. Zakaria was standing confidently in the middle of the room, looking as unarmed as ever. The men at their desks looked a bit more unsure of themselves and shifted about uncomfortably. A number of new, well dressed, men stood leaning on the side wall, and a couple more stood lazily by the exit door.

"_Oh good_!" Dr. Mostafa said with a spring in his step, hurrying over to a man at the closest desk, "_Amjad, open up a wireless connection for Mr. Hawkins, we need him to transfer over some files_."

"I could get the files Doctor." Zakaria said, in both a menacing tone and perfect English, "We don't need him for them."

Hawkins smiled and walked up to the taller Persian, "So, only seven here?" he remarked with a thin-lipped grin, "You're cutting it short, the other thirteen will take a while to cover a facility of this size, not that it will matter, you'll never catch her."

"Her eh?" Zakaria said, returning an easy smile. Their smile contest was interrupted by the sound of Zakaria's radio crackling and a voice calling over it.

"_Mr. Zakaria, who are these people_?" the voice, apparently one of the taller Persian's Qod troops, asked, "_Some crazy witch just hung Navid up a tree by his underwear. I do not think they respect us_."

Hawkins tapped a few buttons to link his smart phone up to Amjad's wireless then took that same hand up to his face to rub the bridge of his nose and remarked, "Yeah, her… don't ask."

"_It will take Navid quite a while to live that one down_." Zakaria admitted, his eyebrows raised then returned to Hawkins with a bemused smirk, "If you were trying to impress me it worked. I wouldn't have imagined that possible from a woman."

"I'm not trying to impress you. Someone just has a really bad sense of humor." Hawkins admitted.

"And how do you feel about this Dr. Ochbelagh?" Zakaria pressed, checking his compatriot, "Working with an American after your loss?"

The Doctor glanced over, but if he was going to say something he was quickly cut off by Hawkins angry return statement, "That's low, the man has a lot of grief to work through and he's not going to get any better with you goading him." the Chief said, "What am I supposed to do, apologize for some nameless bureaucrat in my government, or for all of Israel? I can't so I won't bother. I was going to avoid bringing the whole thing up for the man's sake but you just had to go there."

"I'm sorry you think I'm a slave to my grief Mr. Zakaria." the Doctor said with a sigh as the plans came up on his screen, "My family is in a better place. I don't hate any individual American for it, but their whole accursed system. It's just unfortunate that I can't bomb that."

A pall of silence fell over the room. Only the tall, self-assured Iranian and the cocksure American seemed oblivious to it, lost in their staring contest. Even the men along the sides of the room seemed less comfortable in their own skin from the exchange.

"Do you have it yet Dr. Ochbelagh?" Hawkins pressed, looking to his smart phone for the completion readout.

"Yes, we do." the Doctor replied, glancing up at his protector, "No more trouble right now please Mr Zakaria."

The taller Iranian just shrugged. Hawkins headed for the door, putting his smart phone away and double timing it.

"Will you need some sort of ride Mr. Hawkins?" the doctor asked.

"Nah." the Chief replied, heading out the door with only a short glance at his watch first, "Should be one coming up now. I'm just in time. Your Russian friends will be in contact to coördinate our efforts."

Besides the Doctor, the whole room let out their collective breath as Hawkins jogged out the door and across the courtyard. Zakaria began sending his troops around to check the facility and get set to move to a different advanced deployment.

"_The Russians are working with him_?" the tall man asked the Doctor and got a nod in return, "_We've stepped into something more convoluted than we believed_."

"_I'm just glad you didn't start shooting_." Ochbelagh said, looking to the maps and setting up some printing jobs, "_A man like that will rarely leave anything to chance_."

"_I'm aware_." the protector said, looking concerned, "_I'm usually good at judging the time to attack someone, but I never saw a truly unguarded moment. He unnerved me, and that's odd. Maybe it was those odd sparks of gold I saw in his eyes_."

Checking his watch again Hawkins jogged out to the connecting road. The dust clung to him like an extra skin outside the plant. He hoped no one noticed or asked about it, but with the strip mine up the road and the cement plant here it shouldn't attract too much attention.

He glanced back, checking his rear then started to talk beneath his breath.

"G5, G5, you get that?"

"Got it G1, decent trade." the voice in his ear returned, "G4 picked up a few things from the wireless, everything we could grab quick and looked interesting."

"Good, everyone clear?"

"Like they could catch her, hell I've tried to catch that rear for years… gack oww… no smacking G4... No I did not ask for it."

"Sounded like you did G5." the Chief chuckled.

"Opinions are like assholes." G5 defended himself, then added, "And what the hell is wrong with Grand Funk Railroad?"

The Chief just shook his head and moaned under his breath, "And I got stuck with the god damn Piccolo."

"What was that Chief?"

"My ride's here, I'll keep in touch." Hawkins replied, waving to a white van that was coming up the dirt road.

"Didn't sound like what you said."

"Leave it."

"Right-o."

With the sound of gravel crunching under tires the white van slowed to a halt in front of the Chief. The sliding door on the side of the van popped open to reveal a number of smiling faces, a mix of locals and foreigners, in the dark space beyond.

"Hey Chief!" one of them called, "What's up? Can't believe you're still jogging to work. Don't you know that'll take forever?"

"Never bothered me before." the Chief replied with a smile.

"Well you being late will probably bother Mr. Stevens." the man said, then waved Hawkins toward the van, "Come on, we'll give you a lift before you get in trouble."

Smiling, Hawkins jumped in the opened door and took a seat among the passengers. The van erupted in a lively chatter, something no one inside seemed a stranger too.

"Much obliged." Hawkins remarked, nodding to the man.

"Not a problem."

With that the man slid the door back closed. In moving the door back into place he completed the symbol on the side of the van, a plain black glyph of two triangles pointed towards each other.


	5. Familiar Faces

Three Hours Earlier.

One Thousand, Seven Hundred and Fifty miles North-East,

Above the Segami-Nada Sea, off Janjira Japan.

A plain black glyph of two triangles pointed towards each other, the symbol of Monarch, graced the side of a distinctive, blue trimmed, white helicopter as it sped across the sky. It caught up to and passed waves on the sea below it one after the other in fast succession. Ahead the white-capped Mt. Fuji sparkled in the rising sun, and the spires of Janjira city proper were just coming into sight.

Within the helicopter's passenger cabin, reclining on one of the plush seats and scratching his graying beard as he looked wistfully out the window, the guest of honor, Dr. Ishiro Serizawa found himself wondering if he would ever find a time as peaceful as it looked outside. The lapping waves of the sea surrounding and framing the beautiful vistas of his homeland from beneath. The majestic Mt. Fuji adding a color contrast of bright white to the greens and browns below. Even Janjira, only fifteen months reopened to the public and still all but a ghost town, despite the crowded conditions of Japan, looked more peaceful.

The peace just couldn't make its way into this cabin with him. Could it?

"…and the readings are even more remarkable in light of the newest findings!" an elderly man, twenty years Serizawa's senior exclaimed using accented English of a type the doctor could never quite put his finger on, in the same excited tone he'd been blathering with the last four or so hours of their flight, "The mitochondria are making use of both loose neutrons and gamma wavelengths to alter valance charge within the cells!"

"We've known that Doctor Zamalek." Serizawa said in reply, not fully paying attention. Four hours under the drone of a single voice tended to stretch one's attention span.

"Oh yes, but here look.' the other doctor pointed in his mass of research notes, "This shows that the cells can even break down and reconstitute large amounts of lactic acid back into more usable compounds and metabolize in cycle."

Serizawa sighed and laid his head in his hand, "They would have to." he said for at least the thirtieth time, "Now can you get to the nutrient bath results before we arrive?"

"Oh, oh yes, I see." the older man, dressed in a garb the more respectable, less talkative doctor would consider just on the edge of 'mad scientist', reacted as if a little browbeaten by the softly spoken words. Turning over another page to something on the bottom of his report, he said, "All results show consistent across the board. Cells exposed to a bath of radiation, though I'd be hard pressed in normal circumstances to call that a nutrient, show full repair from scar tissue or ruptured state in under seventy-four seconds, but do not replace fully lost materials. Cells exposed to an ordinary glucose bath in absence of radiation repair from similar states in fourteen hours, twenty-five minutes, plus or minus a few here and there. Considerably slower to be sure, but even in absence of hormonal stimulation they reform the surrounding tissue, neuron and vascular material of their original, errm… structure I suppose you'd call it. Our ability to study only the exo-armor production organelles for this work does… limit the amount of… speculation, as to the MUTO's internal repair rates and nutrient usage."

Dr. Serizawa's mind mulled the data provided, even as he pointed something out to his fellow Monarch doctor, "Gojira doctor."

"Eh?" Zamalek looked over to Serizawa, a bit confused.

"MUTO is only the designation of unidentified mega fauna." Serizawa continued, thinking over what Godzilla's almost instantaneous regeneration would mean to those interested in doing damage to him, "Gojira has a name, and has been identified on multiple occasions, so he is no longer classified as a MUTO."

"Meh, all the Problematica are MUTO's to me really." the older doctor responded with a shrug, "Your family's personal favorite Prime Saurian included."

"I find it odd you would sound so angry over him." Serizawa said, looking back out the window, "It was your uncle who did not believe he existed."

'…and your father who proved he did." Zamalek added, "It was irksome to him and I suppose he passed it down."

Serizawa managed a private grin, remembering the pictures of the older Dr. Zamalek. How the man had managed a fur lab coat, a plethora of earrings, and the haircut he was always shown to have, in the middle of the tight-laced fifties was a mystery even beyond the head of Monarch's reasoning abilities. At least his nephew had not quite so much flare for the dramatic in his attire, and too bad the nephew's daughter was so uptight. They still could manage to talk a person's ear off with the slightest provocation so some things were entirely familial.

The helicopter had slowed as they'd entered Janjira's airspace, giving the doctors a good look into the old nuclear site for a moment before water was under them again. Serizawa looked up and followed the edge of the approaching city, counting the chome that passed under them on the way to the taller buildings.

Monarch's new headquarters sparkled in the distance and Serizawa found himself sad that so few of the old landowners had bothered to come back and at least bring their buildings up to code more than a year after the city reopened. The gleaming towers of Janjira's reopened central district, mostly housing Monarch along with it's subsidiary and support businesses, seemed like something out of a fantasy painting. Bright white spires forcing their way skyward from the center of a verdant jungle. At least more of the foliage could have been cleared off the surrounding districts.

"Fifteen months since she reopened, twenty months and two weeks since the fires across the river were put out, twenty-one months since the MUTO left." Serizawa rattled off figures in a way that left no doubt he was tired to the bone, "Yet only seventeen thousand people are living in the space for a hundred twenty thousand. Mostly just transplants… Only two hundred people even bothered to return for their effects."

"We did our job, protected the people." Zamalek remarked with a sigh, "Cleared the danger zone and did what we could to learn, but the amount of fear we used to get the job done doesn't just go away over night, or over a decade. We can't expect the damage of fifteen years to disappear in the same number of months."

"We're coming in soon sir, be ready." the copilot called back, apparently unsure if everyone behind him was awake, "Dr. Graham has been asking for you."

"More findings I suppose." Dr, Zamalek said as if even he was getting tired of the endless stream of new discoveries, then looking down at few reams of similar new discoveries lining his lap, his seat and his side of the cabin he added, "I can't wait."

"She says she's having trouble holding off some… what was that?" the copilot was adding before he went back to check the message coming in then added, "…rather officious military types."

"I'm not surprised." Serizawa called back to the copilot. Trying to talk their way around all the overlapping areas of control near Tokyo had become much harder when military traffic and no-fly zones that accompanied an American carrier group were added to the mix. They never had to see the U.S.S. Saratoga to know she was somewhere out in the Segami-Nada Sea.

"Heh, and you wonder why I take the mad scientist route?" Dr. Zamalek chuckled, looking over at his colleague and waving a few papers at him, "Bury yourself under random paperwork and babble about inane theories with no military implications like I've practiced. They won't just go out of the way to avoid you. They'll try to stay out of your province."

Serizawa sighed as the helicopter came in for a smooth landing on the helipad atop the tallest building of the refurbished group, wondering if it could be that easy. Being one avoided scientist in the midst of many in Monarch had left Zamalek with little appreciation of how everyone expected the head of the organization to be a scientist *and* a politician with equal fervor.

Zamalek throwing the door on his side of the helicopter open, being so happy to get back on the ground, then chasing half a ream of paper around the roof since he didn't account for the swirling wind coming off the propellers gave Serizawa probably the only good laugh of the day.

Dr. Serizawa disembarked from the helicopter in a far more dignified manner and walked with a slight stoop as he crossed the pad. It was a habit he'd put off to the wind near the machine but was probably just that he was unable to suppress the need to be away from the whirling blades, even after years of that kind of travel. He noticed that his assistant Vivienne Graham did the same as she came over to welcome him, so he wasn't the only one with that habit. They saved bowing until they were a bit further away from the helicopter. Zamalek was still behind them, chasing a few remarkably stubborn papers, when the helicopter took off, clearing the pad and heading back out to sea in an apparent hurry.

"The Americans don't want anything in the air around here while they're in the area." Graham pointed out, noticing that they, against normal safety precautions, hadn't waited for Zamalek to get clear. The idea that the pilots were more interested in getting away from Dr. Zamalek himself had never crossed her mind.

"Acting as if they own everything in arms reach as usual." Serizawa grumbled, "Do we have the information we need?"

Graham nodded, straightening out her hair now that the helicopter's rotor wash was gone, "Yes sensei." she said, "Specific point and counterpoint on your desk as usual."

There was something on the wind that caught Serizawa's interest for a moment. A slight smell of burning, but he dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. The view from atop the skyscraper was spectacular, but any smells from below would never make it up to the top of it. Maybe it was something Zamalek was carrying.

Graham's report brought the doctor back from his reverie, "Oh, the project you told me to keep an eye on seems to have brought itself into the area."

"The Brody family?" Serizawa cut the ambiguity out of that conversation like a samurai swinging his blade. Something like that was far to important to risk problems in translation.

"Yes sir." Graham said with a nod, "They're in town, picking through the family belongings."

"Good." Serizawa declared, returning the nod, "Get me driver. I'm headed over there."

"But the…" Graham started, but noted the look in her sensei's eyes, both stern and distant, "Right away sir."

Dr. Ishiro Serizawa stood proud and looking profound up until Zamalek went hopping past him on the other side of the helipad, grabbed the last recalcitrant sheet of paper with a shout of victory, and toppled right off the back of the platform.

Serizawa's face fell into his palm, glad that at least there was a maintenance walkway out there for Zamalek to land on.

* * *

About the same time,

U.S.S. _Kidd_, The Indian Ocean. Five miles East of Christmas Island.

Heading North-North-West towards the Sundra Straight at Twenty-Five knots.

Gunner's mate Saldis looked through the binoculars again. He was certain of it. There was no doubt in his mind and no one could change his opinion if they tried.

"Eighty Nine." he said with a nod and handed the binoculars over to Electronics Technician Paulson beside him. A few of the men, gathered at the guardrail further down, started grumbling to each other. A bit of under the table money passed hands as Saldis nodded to himself.

"How do we know he's right?" someone from the throng called.

"Best eyes on the ship." Machinist's mate Rigis responded in a chortled laugh, "You guys called him, now you pay up."

There was some mumbled cursing. Saldis just shook his head and leaned on the rail. Their _Arleigh Burke _class destroyer was in the middle of the Indian ocean, all but alone and trailing the most dangerous thing on the seas. A person would think in that kind of situation, given how many of the class were mauled two years before, the crew would have something better to do, hell ANYTHING better to do, than count the dorsal fins on the giant lizard they were trailing. Still it was more fulfilling having the _Kidd_ tracking a threat than its old assignment scouring the bottom of the ocean.

"Do you think the brass will put us back on battle stations soon?" Rigis asked, walking up beside the Gunner's mate and Paulson.

Saldis just had to shrug, putting off that he was wondering about the question himself, "We're a half mile from a lizard the size of an aircraft carrier." he pointed out, "And as far as we've seen he might as well be the King of Apathy more than the King of Monsters. He's never hurt a naval ship that he didn't stand up under, so questioning the skipper is pointless. The brass know what they're doing."

"Glad you're all so confident." Paulson said, then gave a timid glance back to a Commander standing near the forward gun turret before he turned and took another look at Godzilla through the binoculars, "That thing is just damn big."

"Yeah well, it fits in the ocean so it can't be…" Saldis said, but stopped when he noticed something off behind the ship, his 'best eyes' doing their job, "Give me those binoculars back. Something's behind us."

"Really?" Paulson chirped, handing the binoculars over as ordered, "Support I hope."

"Don't think so." the Gunner's mate replied and looked through the binoculars for a second before he turned to the Commander behind them and shouted, "Sir! Hey, Commander! Are we dragging sonar today sir?"

"Why do you ask?" the Commander said, jogging over and causing the small rabble nearby to break up under his gaze, "Do you see something Saldis?"

"Odd movement in the water behi…" the Gunner's mate had started, but was stopped by a sudden exclamation from Rigis.

"Jesus." the Machinist's mare gasped, his breath catching in his throat. The Commander and Saldis looked back to see what was going on.

The Sea had turned to blood. The Commander's eyes widened and an alarm went off from the ships loudspeakers. Someone else on the bridge had seen the water turn red. The Captain, calm enough about following Godzilla at a distance, was taking no chances about the strange seas and had put the ship on alert.

The _Kidd _bucked and rocked as the water underneath it turned not only the color, but the consistency of strawberry gelatin. General quarters, something most people had figured would be in effect while near Godzilla but hadn't gotten, sounded loudly now. Underneath the wail of sirens was another sound unmistakable to sailors. The sound of metal under pressure.

Keeping his composure Saldis spotted the end of the red coming and pulled out something he kept with him due to his job. The stopwatch wasn't really needed in the high-tech world of radar tracked munitions and computers to call flight times down to the millisecond, but it was something from his family's past as gunners that he never had gotten rid of.

With a forceful press the Gunner's mate started his stopwatch as the trailing end of the red sea touched the aft end of the _Kidd_. He diligently kept the stopwatch going until the red sea slipped out from under the bow before clicking the control again. The timer had stopped at nine and a half seconds. Calculations flashed through his mind. Keeping track of relative speeds without computer help for targeting was more than a hobby of his, but it still took him a while to get the numbers right.

"Whatever that is it was doing fifty-six knots." Saldis reported, as much to himself as the Commander.

"Get to your stations, NOW." the Commander ordered, already heading for the door to the superstructure.

Out beyond the _Kidd_ the mass of red caught up to Godzilla quickly. Soon the saurian behemoth was swimming in goo, but wasn't slowing at all. It was debatable if he even noticed. Something had the King of Monster's attention and a bit of red water wasn't slowing him.

Like the time before tendrils and pseudo-pods of slime lashed out from the red form, wrapping themselves around Godzilla. They entangled his spines, pried at his scales and went for his gills. A strange steam rose from the points of contact, but far less than the first Godzilla had met something like this.

The King of Monsters neither slowed, nor blinked, even with the slime all around him. In a few moments the poking and prodding finally managed to annoy the great beast. The red waves sparked and shuddered as Godzilla's spines lit up. The sea started to boil, changing from red to black. Likewise the tendrils wrapped over Godzilla began to split and burn, falling away as they blackened.

Fool me once apparently.

The red slime recoiled from the King, sliding away across the water. The odd ooze seemed to bristle, as if it could be angered. As if the King of Monster's audacity in discarding it like junk could truly make this red material angry.

Forming a row of spikes of its own, slightly shorter than Godzilla's but still reminiscent, almost in a petulant 'well I can have spikes too' manner, the red mass sped off in the direction Godzilla was headed.

* * *

Twenty Minutes Later,

Brody Residence, Janjira, Japan.

She found him out on the porch with his head in his hands.

Being in this place, seeing it, working around it, was taking a lot out of Ford. He was becoming more distant, moody, while trying to hold it all in. There was nothing she could do for it. The whole thing had to happen. He'd always said he had dealt with his mother's death, but he was lying. He never even referred to his father as dead, just gone. Someone had to help him. He needed help.

Ford avoided reacting when soft arms fell over his shoulders and wrapped around his chest. He avoided acting emotionally, even as his wife's head fell against the back of his neck.

"The living room is cleaned up a bit more." she commented, looking at the ground, "We need to find out what should be boxed, get to the other rooms, check the water, the pipes, and unclog my husband."

An inquisitive eyebrow popped up from behind Ford's tented hands. He tried to look back at Elle but couldn't do it just by moving his head. The last part of that line didn't quite sit right with him.

The clomping of small shoes approached the couple from behind, and a voice, the tones of which were mixed with wonder and timidity in equal parts, called out, "There are so many toys in your room Dad." Sam said as he poked his head through the open door, "Hideki says I can have all of them… *really*?"

"Yeah bud, every one." Ford said with a smile.

"We really should clean…" Elle started almost at the same time as Sam continued.

"Even the big bugs!?" the youth, now pushing six, called out with glee, "There's like one a foot long and it walks over everything and I think it likes me!"

"Gah! Blap, gap… bleh…" Elle sputtered like she'd swallowed her spit, "No, no! This is the bugs home. We don't want to bother them."

"But this one really likes me." the reply had come with every possible bit of sincerity and innocence a young boy could muster, backed by the foot long millipede that crawled around his shoulders.

"GAAH!" Elle whipped about and nearly bum rushed her child back in the door. A foot long millipede, apparently oblivious to the commotion, bounced off Ford's head and landed in the road a second later.

Ford looked back into the house where Elle was frantically clearing every cobweb and offensive thing off their son. Behind them a Japanese man, only slightly taller than Elle, and a few years older than the couple, had just set down another box of belongings. Hideki looked at the woman and child and laughed at their antics. His wide face lit up with a broad smile that creased his ruddy features. The man continued by running a hand through his hair, one of his habits probably started as much to fix its constant state of dishevelment as it was to check his ever receding hairline, and waving at Ford. The navy EOD just nodded back to his fellow officer.

"The wilderness look suits you kid." Hideki laughed as Elle fretted, "Found anything good yet?"

"Dinosaurs!" Sam replied with a smile.

"Looks like you were wearing one." the Japanese fellow said with his broad smile, then turned to Elle, "Hey how is it going so far?"

"It's ok." Elle replied, looking over to Ford with concern, and then pushed Sam towards his father, adding, "Why don't you go check those toys past your father Honey? Ok?"

Sam nodded and rushed out to his Dad, pelting him with question after question. Elle smiled and backed off to the den, away from Ford's sensitive ears. Hideki sighed, straightening his hair as he looked at the father and son, then followed her.

"He's not doing very well." Hideki made the first statement as he came around into Joe's now cleaned and boxed den.

"I know but, what can we do?" Elle said, raising her hands, "We have to get him through this, it's not healthy."

"I've only been friends with you guys for a year and a half Elle." Hideki said, shaking his head, "Yet I've long had the impression Ford wasn't the picture of mental health in the first place."

"Well you're the one with the PhD in Psychology." Elle pointed out, poking Hideki in the chest.

"And you're a floor nurse in an ER." Hideki replied, straightening his blue, button down, shirt, "You probably get more experience dealing with grief in a week than I've had in my whole career."

"I know. I just don't like it brought home like this." Elle said, turning to the side and leaning back against the wall, "I wasn't looking for a normal husband, just the man I loved, still love. I didn't realize his hurt was so deep before, and loosing his father made it worse."

"As I've said, the loss of his mother in a sudden traumatic circumstance, one where he could see the disaster but never a body, or any evidence of his mother's existence afterwards, coupled with the complete disruption of all daily routine and family dynamic…" the psychologist started, then crossed his arms and sighed, "He didn't just lose his mother, she vanished, no real explanation, father too traumatized to help make sense of it. Ford never had a chance to grieve. It's no wonder immediate and absolute denial became his coping method. It was shoved down his throat."

"You seem to be good at defining the problem." Elle pouted.

"I'm an Operational Psychologist, sometimes a Tactical one, not a councilor." Hideki admitted, "I analyze people, usually bad people, for the military to make it easier to predict them. You're both my friends and I want to help you with all my heart, but this is something you have to work through as a family."

"I know your right." Elle said sadly, "I was hoping coming back here, using helping you with your family home as an excuse, then coming to this place, would bring back something. I hoped it would help. I didn't think he would turn inward so badly."

"The mind isn't a solid object Elle. Unlike matter it reacts rather randomly to the tactics of a sledgehammer." the councilor advised, "If we had more time walking him through familiar but not so emotionally charged areas first might have helped."

"I know, but leave is only so long Commander." Elle quipped, heading back to the living room, "And speaking of that, we'd better get some work done."

"Yeah, I'll get those glasses from the kit…" Hideki started, but was stopped by a loud, and unfortunately familiar noise.

The sound of Godzilla's roar made Ford almost jump out of his shoes. It had caught Hideki in mid word. He bowed slightly, excusing himself as he pulled out his phone and silenced the offending ring tone. Ford glowered at him, upset he'd been scared for the third time by that damn phone.

Hideki pulled back around a corner into the den as Elle watched him, and answered the call, "Moshi Moshi!"

There was a pause for a second and Hideki's face lost its happy smile.

"No I did not say mushy mushy,… No it has nothing to do with chocolate mousse!" the Japanese man, already exasperated by the voice on the other end of the line, responded, "I said Moshi Moshi, it's Japanese for hello… No, that means 'good morning'… Yes, I know it is morning… Because I'm on the phone… Yes, it's just for the phone… Because we apparently *need* another way of saying hello, *just* for when we use our phones… Wait… No… You… DAMMIT PICCOLO WOULD YOU GET TO THE POINT?!"

Elle smiled at Hideki as the irate Japanese man glared at his cell phone. If eye daggers could only pass through the phone lines she knew Hideki's friend would be in traction about now. Slowly the man put his phone back to his ear.

"No, I am not going to say I'm sorry." Hideki said with a touch of smugness, "Medical Doctors have an oath not to harm their patients. I'm a psychologist and I'll hit you where it hurts. Now, the point please? Uh huh… huh? Really, he's back? How long? I'm on it, Aino out."

Hideki just shook his head as he hung up. He noticed Elle looking at him with a whimsical mirth suggested in her features. The councilor just raised an eyebrow.

"Your friend sounds like a card." Elle chuckled, "Why don't you ever invite him over?"

"With work and his wife he has no time." Hideki said back.

"He has a wife?" Elle looked shocked, "I wouldn't have guessed. Is she the quiet type?"

Hideki rolled his eyes and said "No she talks more than he does." then to Elle's horrified stare he added, "Really, they live out in Nebraska, no neighbors for fifteen miles in all directions. I'm pretty sure it's for everybody else's protection."

Elle chuckled and managed to get the overly large box she was carrying in place, "So what was he calling about?"

Hideki sighed and headed to the front door, "We're about to have visitors." he said, poking his head out and looking left and right down streets. The lawns around were still unmowed, but at least less overgrown than they'd been on Ford's previous trip.

"How does he know?" Elle asked, looking a bit worried as Ford glanced up from what he was doing with Sam on the front steps.

"Nosey type." the councilor explained. Sure enough there was a white van coming down the street, a van with the twin triangle symbol of Monarch painted on the side.

"Who is it?" Ford said, standing up and looking to the slowly approaching vehicle.

"Not your favorite person."

In the time it took the pair of men to walk out to the street the van had pulled up. A familiar figure stepped out of the passenger side. Ford glowered when he saw Dr. Ishiro Serizawa step towards them.

"You're right." the sailor admitted, "Not at all."


	6. Before the Storm

About the same time

On the other side of the World.

Five miles into the Ross Ice Shelf, Antarctica.

Olaf Svenson couldn't see a damn thing. The wind and snow kicked up by the rotors of his white and blue Monarch helicopter had managed to blind even one as accustomed to blizzard conditions as he. Even if the snow he was used to came from a similar spot in the far North of the world, snow was snow was snow. At least it was when it had gotten into your eyes before you pulled your goggles down.

"Gark." he blurted nonsensically, shaking his head, "I should have done that in the helicopter."

"As long as you're not snow blind we'll make do." a muffled voice called to him as the helicopter lifted off and peeled away, clearing the site. Olaf's eyesight had recovered just enough to see a man wrapped in what had to be many layers of white thermal clothing step up in front of him and pull back a breathing mask.

"Snow blind? Me?" Olaf laughed heartily, only slightly annoyed that his body jiggled a little more than it used to, and that the aches in his bones were a little worse than they'd been in previous years, "The waters will boil off Reliktbukta before that happens!"

BVVOOOWWWWWW!

Olaf, along with those there to greet him and his small team, looked back over the hills of uneven ice past the landing point. The Norwegian and his newcomers looked shocked to see a blazing spike of flame, maybe twenty meters tall, rising above the landscape.

"Hydrogen plume!" the bundled up man before him shouted over the noise of the receding helicopter and the sudden blaze. Tipping his head, Svenson glanced around at the landscape. Besides the sudden spike of flame coming off the ice everything looked typically idyllic. Mostly white snow and a few hastily erected shacks visible in the somewhat wan light coming from a sun at best ten degrees off the horizon. In the middle of February as it was that sun probably either never set here, or only dipped slightly out of sight and stuck things in a maddening twilight for a few hours before popping back up to bathe everything in its insufficient glow.

The Norwegian Monarch member produced a computer tablet from the folds of his coat, rechecked a few things he'd been looking at before their arrival, then looked back to the man in charge of their welcoming committee and called out in an authoritative but questioning tone, "Are you Doctor Morgentot?"

"No sir, the doctor is at the drill site." the bundled up man replied in a clipped and efficient manner, "I'm Demitrius Tenlan. I handle, erhm… relations around here."

Olaf smiled, wondering how often said relations were needed in a camp out in the middle of an ice shelf, along with just how many guns and other generally impolite pieces of equipment were being hidden by Mr. Tenlan's heavy layers of clothing. He also got to wondering how much of the equipment the blue-white Chinook they'd arrived on had delivered was scientific in nature, and how much of it was involved with 'relations'.

The hydrogen plume diminished then vanished with an audible VWOOSSHH.

"Good, good!" Olaf said, clapping his hands, "Please take me to him at once so you can get back to all your wonderful relations."

A smirk appeared on what little Svenson could see of Tenlan's face before their greeter pulled a his white breathing mask back up and motioned to him to follow. Smiling Olaf ambled up to keep pace with the taller fellow. Behind them men, both from the camp and newly arrived, were scurrying about, securing what seemed like an inordinate amount of equipment to be carried on one helicopter.

"Do you get many of those?" Olaf said, pointing ahead of them, more to make conversation than anything.

'Those what sir?" the other man asked, then noted the way Olaf was pointing and made the connection, continuing, "I don't know what many is in this case sir, but we get them maybe once an hour. You'd be more apt than myself to know how often you encounter explosive gasses during ice drilling."

Olaf caught himself before he made a derisive remark on the subject. Earlier in his career the idea of flammable ice would have seemed ludicrous, but he'd seen studies on harnessing methane trapped in ice suspension so fire from ice wasn't impossible. Raw elemental hydrogen though? It made little sense to him. Instead of replying he just shook off the entire conversation like another light layer of snow and turned to where they were headed.

He found the sight of it all to be suitably impressive. Sometime, in the recent past, as far as he could tell, the ice sheet had sheared. One half of a larger piece of ice had been forced upward, while the other had been either pulled down or just held firm under its own weight creating a massive fault and giant ice cliff. The new forty meter tall ice face was a breathtaking spectacle, and the giant, cleaved, air pocket it had exposed sent quivers through Olaf's spine. About fifteen meters below the original surface of the ice, and itself at least ten meters tall and too deep for the light to illuminate its reaches, the ice pocket could have contained something the size of a naval frigate and still have left decent wiggle room.

The sight of people working within a half-dozen meters of the cliff was sending something different from a quiver through Olaf. His eyebrows raised behind his goggles as he tried to do an estimation of how stable an ice cliff would be in a fresh fracture zone and in every try the logic of working almost under it came up disturbingly short. There was no safe way to assume a brand new cliff of ice would just hold. It could have been little more than dumb luck the ice face hadn't buried them all especially if they were having constant explosions at its base.

"Hey!" he shouted as loudly as he could to get everyone's attention, in the hopes that his voice wouldn't hit a specific tone and kill everyone in front of him in a form of avalanche, "You shouldn't be working that close!"

A few of the three or four dozen researchers looked up at the approaching pair. Most of them immediately went back to work at either their ice shrouded equipment or on a drilling rig at the outskirts of the encampment, closer to where Svenson and Tenlan were coming in. One of the men there waved almost happily and jogged over to meet them.

"Mr Svenson!" the man called. Olaf was happy there was someone at least expecting him, even if he couldn't tell him or anyone else at the outpost from Adam with the several layers of clothing they were wearing. The Norwegian wondered if he should mention that while it wasn't all that great a place to go in a t-shirt or a tank top, it was still summer here.

Olaf stopped and let the man come up to him rather than get any nearer to what he thought was a death trap. The man from the camp was huffing and puffing by the time he reached them. Tenlan, Olaf was happy to see, was in no more hurry to get near the escarpment than he.

"Hello Mr. Svenson. Johan Morgentot, MUTO research, at your service" the man said, reaching out his hand, and as Olaf shook it he noted a thick southern accent to the man's speech, "We've been expecting you, and we're glad you're here. Can you come down?"

Gauging the man's way of speaking English Svenson figured he was either from Denmark or Germany and from that was probably used to dealing with snow, not sheet ice. He did little to hide how grumpy he was getting from just seeing these youngsters.

Pointing at the ice wall he remarked, "How about instead we get out from under the hundred thousand or so tons of ice hanging over us yah?"

"What? That?" the man said, looking back at the cliff, "The ice here is highly compressed, more so than anything I've seen before. It's proving a challenge just to drill through. I doubt it will break that easily."

"Doesn't matter if the crack was already there from the shift." Olaf pointed out, "I'll stay back this far thank you. You should do the same."

"Well could you at least come as far as the drill?" Morgentot sounded a little crestfallen, "We need your help with all the different materials we're encountering on the way down."

"More than just ice?" Olaf said, tipping his head to the side.

"Yes yes, much more." the scientist said, giddy as a schoolgirl with a new phone, "This whole section is filled with glacial erratic inclusions, mainly rocks scraped off the continental shield to the west. It's all very very old."

"So older than the ice sheet itself?" Olaf mused.

"Much!" the other said with a smile, "Our observations of the rocks minutiae show stromatolites in a diversity suggestive of the mid Proterozoic, that's two-point-two billion years ago, the ice sheet is at best twenty-three million years old."

"So buried and covered over, just to be dug up and reburied in ice." Olaf chuckled, "Our new red friend has had a long, boring past."

"It's still an exciting read." the Monarch scientist said, pointing at spots on the ice and in the great cavity, "We've found tiny frozen microorganisms that match the type found in the red mass Godzilla burnt to black in the sea North of here."

"Dead?" Olaf remarked, just making sure.

"Yes yes, whatever they are they like cold no more than intense radiation. It even left a trail of dead bits and lost mass all the way across the ice to the sea. The same as in the cavern."

"Then the other part of it could be alive." Olaf said, his eyes narrowing as he rubbed his stubbled chin. "You've seen the damage it does though. You're not worried about digging into another concentration of it?"

"Oh no, echo soundings indicate the other part of the cavern that was left after the big cleave here is as empty as the first, and at best half the size anyway."

"Wait… it's empty." Olaf said, not quite believing what he was hearing.

"Yes, very."

"You are not only drilling noisily under a possibly unstable cliff, but you're doing it into and on top of a field of hollow ice?"

"Well there is fifteen meters of it below us." Morgentot croaked defensively.

"That is very scant reassurance."

* * *

The Northern Hemisphere

Janjira, Japan

Outside the Brody residence.

Dr. Ishiro Serizawa understood very quickly he was treading on thin ice. The look on Ford Brody's face was, as usual, on the edge of unreadable, but the way his son was hiding behind the man's leg, and his wife was peeking out the doorway and scowling certainly made up for the man of the family's inability to show tension.

Then there was the other person with them who was, while quite unexpected, even less appreciated.

Serizawa decided to make the best of it, bowed to them and began, "Mr. Brody, hello. It has been a long time."

"Yes sir." Ford replied, nodding into a small bow, "A year and a half. Ayala Cove on Angel Island."

"You have a good memory." Serizawa said, tilting his head, as while he had been there a year and a half ago, observing and taking samples from a resting Godzilla, he hadn't realized Ford had been there as well, "I missed you there sadly. I had wanted to thank you for all you and your father have done for us. It is good to see you."

Hideki looked back and forth between Ford and the good doctor, reading their body language and movements. For all the thanking and apologizing Serizawa was doing he seemed awfully antsy. On the other hand Ford, while as stoic as ever, was closer to letting his emotions show than usual. It was obvious Serizawa had no fans here. The pair, even though they were talking, had gotten no closer than fifteen feet from each other, and Ford was definitely positioning himself between his family and the doctor.

"You sure about that doc?" Hideki asked, cutting the few seconds of silence that followed Serizawa's words.

"Aino-san." Serizawa grumbled back as if the psychologist was something he'd found stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

"Oh I'm just not feeling the love." Hideki said with a grin. He pushed his disheveled hair back into place again.

"You know him?" Ford said, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Serizawa.

"Who doesn't?" Hideki replied. The words seemed easily convey that he wasn't happy about the fact.

Serizawa looked almost ashamed to be standing there, he started, "Mr. Brody I…"

"If you came here to thank me you already have." Ford snapped, "Is there anything else sir?"

Serizawa seemed almost browbeaten. If he'd been expecting a type of reception this definitely wasn't it. He shifted about for a moment with his arms behind his back, looking like he was about to leave before Elle popped out of the house and hurried over to the group.

"Come on sweetie." she said, patting Sam's head, "Go back to your toys ok?"

"Ok Mom." Sam said, a little less scared as he toddled back into the building. Elle smirked at Hideki and then flashed a bright smile at Ford.

"We shouldn't be such bad hosts dear." she scolded her man, "At least invite him in so I can fix up something."

"Elle I…" Ford looked over in disbelief, but saw the steel forming behind his wife's kind smile, "I'll… I'll fix up a chair then."

Ford turned and walked back into the house, releasing responsibility for the affair to his wife. She turned to Dr. Serizawa, keeping up her smile.

"I've heard so much about you doctor." Elle said with a nod, "Won't you please come in?"

"Thank you Mrs. Brody." Serazawa replied with a short bow, "I am in your debt."

Elle motioned him towards the door so Dr. Serizawa did as she suggested and gave her another nod as he walked by. The moment the two were out of the doctor's line of sight Hideki turned to Elle with a look that screamed 'what the f…" plastered all over his face. Her smile back and a few motions towards her husband and the doctor proved enough to get across her point in return. Ford had just showed more emotion, albeit negative, than he had since he and she had found each other in the stadium on that fateful morning. Hideki cocked an eyebrow, looking skeptical, but shrugged the whole thing off and headed back in the house.

They found Serizawa sitting on the front edge of a couch, his head down, his fingers intertwined. Ford was still standing, leaning on the wall beside a window as he glared out toward the city. The sailor's eyes looked mad enough to burn the whole of Janjira down with their stare.

"I know I said something about being sorry for your loss back during the crisis." Serizawa was explaining, "But I know it was nowhere near enough. We were so hurried, so rushed. Everything happened so fast there was no time to think about anything else, no time to realize how it must have seemed, how our decisions had effected your family and how wrong we'd been."

"If you want to make an apology now's a damn late time for it." Ford said though the words lacked emotion, "We all did what we had to do then split up and disappeared from each others lives."

"I know, but I feel you're owed more." Serizawa pointed out, "I wanted to bring you back, show you the new headquarters downtown. Find some way to start making it up to you. It is a matter of honor to repay one's debts."

"Wooooo, Monarch Headquarters!" an excited voice chimed in as Sam poked his head out the door to Ford's old room, "Do you have monsters there?"

Serizawa looked up from his hands and smiled, almost seeming embarrassed to admit it, "Only if you like them stuffed and under glass."

"COOL!" Sam darted down the hall and grabbed hold of his mother, "Can we go? Can we go?"

"I don't know dear, you'll have to ask your father." Elle fell back on the time-honored tradition of kicking Daddy where it hurt. Ford just rolled his back to the wall and crossed his arms in a huff.

Out of the blue Hideki grabbed hold of Serizawa's arm with a, "Pardon me, Japanese person conference." line as a thin excuse. He pulled the doctor to his feet and stormed back to Ford's old room with him.

_Roughly translated from Japanese_

"_What the hell are you doing_?" Hideki growled, "_Cherry-picking me_?"

"_I should ask you the same thing_." Serizawa shot back, checking that they were out of easy hearing range, "_What is G-Unit doing here_?"

"_I met them at the Gojira site at _Angel Island." Hideki pointed out, "_Don't I get to have friends_?"

"_Not when that friend is the only person outside your unit to ever singularly kill any form of _MUTO." the doctor replied angrily, "_Don't you think they've had enough_?"

"_And you're being so altruistic_." Hideki argued in return, _"Tell me your men weren't over this house with a fine tooth comb as soon as you figured out which one it was? I doubt you asked permission either_."

"_You didn't answer the question_." Serizawa cut back, "_So you are after him_?"

"_I doubt he'll make it past _Hawkins." Hideki admitted, "_His emotional scars are too deep_."

"_Your famous _G1_ finally gets something right_." Serizawa said with disgust, "_Who are you really trying to help here? You aren't a clinical psychologist. You have no business interfering with his life_."

Hideki looked aside and rubbed the back of his head, "_No I'm not_." he returned with a nod, _"But trying to help is the least I can do. He would never go for counseling on his own_."

"_His condition is that severe_?"

"_He's going to be a mess, not right now, but sooner or later_." the psychologist said, "_I figure if I'm spending time on my governments dime for something that won't pan out, I might as well make some good of it_."

"_That's good of you_." Serizawa remarked with a nod, "_If he comes to the museum is there anything I should avoid_?"

"_Too much apologizing and mention of his father_." Hideki acknowledged, fixing his hair, "_He's not ready to go there yet. He isn't even up to admitting his mother is anything but gone_."

"_How sad_." the elder man said, shaking his head, "_Thank you._"

Serizawa walked out past Hideki as the younger man bowed his head, suitably chastised. The relationship between their two groups had never been an easy one, and it would have been a rare meeting between them that didn't end in a quarrel.

"I think it would be healthy to get the whole family out of this stuffy old place and back to civilization for a little while." Elle was explaining as she patted Sam's head.

Ford, who had taken Serizawa's seat, and nearly his pose, looked up with a smile, "You were the one that got us out to this 'stuffy old place' to begin with Elle." he replied, "I don't know if it will be healthy for Sam to get too attached to monsters."

"Oh come on." Elle said, smiling back as she crouched down and brushed the hairs along side Ford's face with her hand, "You two have always been big on dinosaurs."

"Well we've been big on ice cream for supper too." Ford pointed out, "But the ice cream doesn't try to eat us."

"I don't knowwww." Elle said with a giggle, "We aren't in communist Russia."

Ford choked back a laugh, babbling, "…ice cream tries to eat *you*." then shook his head and looked out the door, "Just know I'm not all for this ok?"

"It'll be fun." Elle said, getting up and heading over to Hideki as he and Serizawa walked over, "Really."

Hideki, not looking completely convinced mumbled, "We can only hope."

"YAY! Dinosaurs!"

* * *

A short time later.

Approaching Monarch Headquarters.

Ford was truly surprised how much work Monarch, and pretty much Monarch alone, had done in Janjira. He wouldn't have recognized the area he'd walked through as a supposedly radioactive quarantine zone less than two years back had it not been for the street signs. The buildings were for the most part clean, only a few stray vines and creepers here and there. The roads were clear and the traffic signals all worked, even down to the crossing lights and their silly music. He doubted any blind person had ever heard it here, but the tune was probably regulated by law or something.

Sam was staring out the window. His eyes darted back and forth. Signs advertising ice cream parlors, candy and toy stores were all lit, even if no one had worked the machinery in more than a decade. Nineties era video games were even standing here and there, some still working against all logic or despite being the home for who know what animal shortly before. They must have had a bad problem with fires when they turned the electricity back on.

The city's new improvements were eye-catching further in. The streets were aglow with LED displays that showed both the normal directional arrows, crosswalks, and parking spaces, along with traffic warnings and congestion reports that might actually come in handy if there were any cars around. He'd heard the little hexagonal panels in the road were solar-powered too. What people could think of with way to much money. The whole downtown glowed in the morning sun as the light reflected or refracted off high-rise buildings so shiny Ford could have sworn they were just polished.

"Are there big monsters Mr. Serizawa?" Sam asked, a look of awe stamped nigh permanently on his face.

"Yes, very very big." the doctor replied with a smile and a nod. He wasn't very good with children and missing his assistant at the moment. She usually ran interference between him and people he had to use small words with.

"It's so pretty here." Elle said, eyes agape, "Did you put this much work into the hospitals?"

"It is adjacent to our visitors' center if you want to look it over Mrs. Brody." Serizawa replied with a nod.

Hideki, fixing his hair while resting his head on a hand just hummed a whoop-die-do in the background.

The driver, holding a hand over his earpiece to block out the local static, mumbled something then reached over and handed a tablet back to Dr. Serizawa. The doctor took a look at it and his shoulders slumped.

"Trouble?" Ford asked.

"No, just company." Serizawa said with resignation, then craned his neck to get a look out the window at the top of the tallest building in town. Ford had a better angle on the view and figured where Serizawa was trying to look so he checked for him. The sailor picked out the familiar shape of a Sikorsky helicopter on the helipad, though he couldn't tell if it was a Sea Hawk or a Black Hawk from the distance he was at. Maybe if he could see the left side or the landing wheels.

"Military company." Ford pointed out, "The building is too tall to tell much else though."

Serizawa nodded, looking at a small drawing one of the staff made and transferred to the tablet. Something about Mrs. Graham strangling herself while being hovered over by a number of men in uniform. It was crude, but served to make the point. He sighed to himself as the van made the last turn and came into sight of the new Monarch headquarters. Sam made a woo noise and Ford managed a nod of appreciation. Dr. Serizawa looked the place over, not getting to see it very often from the ground. He found the mix of parkland, minor but functional, if bright white, defensive perimeters, and occasional if somewhat understated monster statues on the edge of tasteful. The pair of white Monarch towers thrust skyward out of an extensive low-level complex slightly smaller than a shopping mall. It held everything Monarch needed to continue work and research on MUTO, along with skyways that connected to a shopping center, transportation hub, accommodations and a hospital. Besides the military touches, that he didn't appreciate, Serizawa found having such an extensive center at his disposal to be very beneficial.

"Great." Hideki grumbled, "And all we get is a really big truck."


	7. The First Drop of Rain

Twenty minutes earlier.

14°38'25.0"N Latitude, 121°01'48.6"E Longitude

A really big truck, Quezon City, Manila Metro, Philippines.

The coffee smelled really good as he lifted the cup to his lips. The lighting situation in the trailer, which would be completely dark if not for the bright glow of screens, computer monitors, gauges, and the small lights that showed the status of each and every control and toggle around him, was wearing on him for not the first time today. Seeing as it was still only the early hours of the morning that didn't bode well for the rest of his shift.

Taking his first sip of the stronger than normal brew he bent over one of the workstations and checked on the tracking status of everyone he was responsible for. On the outside he looked like your average sort, a thin but very tall man in his early sixties, who carried himself with a dignified if relaxed manner and dressed down as well as ex-military types were wont to. His actions as his eyes slipped over the controls and panels spoke of an easy familiarity with keeping track of everything around him, and his hawkish features suited him well for those eyes seemed to miss nothing they passed over, even for a moment.

"Keep an eye on cameras four, eight and sixteen." the man said, his voice a touch higher than would be expected of a person of his size, but still a bit gravelly for it, as he turned to one of the six others in the truck with him, "When that troublemaker reports on the Iranians tell her to park it up the hill and collect the cameras there, they'll be moving."

"Kk five." the man, a local by the looks of his darker skin and Polynesian complexion, "You gonna piss off four again? It's kinda funny seeing her beat on you."

"Like she needs another reason." G5 said with a smirk. He turned back to the main screen to watch the white Monarch van carrying G1 finish the last of the switchbacks in the road leading to the dam site and pull into the clearing. The cameras placed around the small tight valley that the Angat Dam Hydroelectric plant sat in had a good, if distant field of view on the entire area. Yet again G5's eyes ran over the particulars of the place, keeping him familiar if he needed to go there.

One long box of a hydroelectric plant sat across the valley with a river seeming to spawn from it to the South. To the West of that were the maze of wires and transformers common to any power plant, and to the South of them along the river were a few outbuildings and the original offices, mostly hidden by trees. North of the power plant was the actual dam, not outwardly a construction of steel and concrete like many Americans swore dams should look like, but more of a vast earthwork plugging up the northern end of the valley. Between it and the plant there were the new constructions, those his team were worried about. A pair of large and not very temporary looking buildings that beneath their ordinary façade could have been taken for heavy bunkers. Average looking roofs and almost dainty plastic siding hid swept back concrete walls a tank would have troubles shooting through. Across the river to the East, melded into the valley wall was the other problem. Accessed by a barely visible road that went around behind the power plant, and recessed into the hillside, were a pair of concrete and metal doors. The things were just huge and G5 really wondered how they'd gotten them in there beyond just building them on the spot. Each door was almost a hundred feet wide and as tall as the hillside would allow, and both were carefully angled as to be almost invisible from the dam, designed to avoid the notice of tourists and the occasional school field trip using the dam for its incredible view. It was sadly obvious the pair of portals were in no way meant for human egress.

With a deft movement of a control stick, something he'd kept tied into the cameras against G4's insistence on switching to touch pads, G5 narrowed the field of view to the now parked van. A crew of Monarch workers spilled out onto the flattened field and all started scattering to their normal assignments. The person who G5 was interested in exited towards the end of the throng and stretched out a few kinks in his arms as he headed for the main bunkers.

G5 sighed as he looked over G1 while the man strode lazily across the field. It was hardly fair how young the man looked, for while G5 knew for a fact he'd been born just around the time the battle of Khe Sanh was ending in Vietnam, sometime in 1968, he didn't look a day older than when he'd first seen him blowing a hole in a wall in Falluja in 2004. He was still the consummate country boy, or absolute Aryan. His blue eyes were just as large and bright. His blonde hair lacked even a speck of gray. His features as unblemished by time or wrinkles. G5 supposed at the very least it served as a bit of a running joke that everyone who didn't know him thought G1 was in his twenties.

With another flurry of button clicks and control yoke movements G5 checked out the others they had stationed there. He could see three. One of which, a large black man, and fellow ex-marine, Midas Jackson, was heading over to G1. Off to the west Taylor Brackman, a man white enough to bleach the color out of everything around him, down to the gray hair, was playing his role as head of base security to the hilt, running some of the guards, local talent by the looks of them, through drills and exercises. In back of the power plant the red-haired and freckled Jimmy Martins had lit up a smoke and was watching his angles to make sure no one noticed.

G5 grinned. Oh some one noticed all right. Someone would get a ribbing from G5 himself, Marcus Piccolo, at the first opportunity.

Hawkins finished stretching out the kinks in his arms he'd gotten on the bumpy car ride over to the dam. Wasn't a day yet all the switchbacks it took to get up and down the steep slopes failed to get to him. Maybe he was getting old. The thought was banished in a second as G1 headed for the bunker complex. He spotted good old Gold heading his way.

"Yo! Boss." Midas 'Golden' Jackson called out, waving a hand. Hawkins smiled and waved back. They might look like different sides of a chiaroscuro painting, but he got along well with his fellow enlisted man. The ex-first sergeant had his priorities straight.

"Zup Midas?" Hawkins said with a grin, not breaking stride towards the camouflaged bunkers, "You Golden again?"

"Maybe half." Midas said, bristling with pride, "Getting busy with the girls while using Tagalog is a little harder than I expected. They all speak English around here too, but what's the challenge in that?"

"I'm sure you've got certain parts that work as a universal translator." Hawkins said, looking as stern and focused as possible.

"Well I know." Midas replied with a grin, "Words are local, but the 'Golden Girth' is something all ladies understand."

The blonde man chuckled despite himself and nodded the sergeant on. He knew what he had to and the conversation was getting just on the edge of obscene. Midas had gotten done communicating the security situation, and lack of unusual activity, non-verbally, halfway through the chatter. Given the way Midas had glanced during their talk Hawkins had a pretty good idea where all his men were. G-team 1 was set up as usual, covering the complex and underground with a ten man spread that could have been taken from a security textbook. There was little chance anything would get past them.

Hawkins made his way into the front door of the bunker complex and nodded to the few office workers there. Since his arrival to handle security a few months earlier G1 had been sure to not only familiarize himself with every worker, but for the most part do a reasonable job at giving half a damn about their existence. It was enough to get them watching out for him, or passing things along like they were doing today. Given the way they looked at him with concern Hawkins could tell the boss of the place was in another one of his snits.

"I suppose you think just because you arrived with that bunch of reprobates you get a pass on arriving late." a stern voice arose from behind a desk at the end of the room.

"Byran Hawkins ends up a few minutes late to work and look, the world didn't end." Hawkins replied with a shrug, picked up some mail from his box, decided that absolutely none of it meant a thing to him, and tossed it in the innocuous spot most of his mail went.

"I'm sure it'll be worked out in the end." the head man's secretary, a woman who Hawkins religiously avoided remembering the name of, stated as she looked at him then tossed a glance back over her shoulder towards the big man's office and made an exaggerated throat cutting motion.

Hawkins smiled at the woman on the way past and she shot him a cautionary look. He knew what it meant. No one else would give half a damn about a person who was little more than a glorified staff advisor being fifteen minutes late, but Mr. Stevens was the kind of nit-picker to probably be discretely livid over the fact. He headed back the hall at the end of the room and made his way out to a pair of wooden chairs around the corner. Taking a seat he leaned back and looked at the door beside him. It was like waiting outside the principal's office or something else ridiculously juvenile. Every single wall and support in the bunkers was meticulously isolated and sound-proofed meaning listening to anything, anywhere was hard as hell but that didn't deter Hawkins. Switching the frequency on his implanted microphone with a quick touch he tuned into the rooms judiciously placed 'intercom' system. Someone had to be in there or Stevens would have been all over him like Golden on jailbait.

"…ere getting a number of readings on the progress of One." a voice in the room was saying, one Hawkins picked out as Stevens scientific advisor Mr. Davis, "Three and Four are staging out to usable depending on the situation, though I wouldn't use Four for anything beyond all out war."

"Your opinion is duly noted Mister Davis." a voice replied, clipping precise vowel noises very specifically to form a Queen's English accent. Why exactly a guy from Tennessee with a nickname like Mickey Colorado had a British accent could only be placed down to as G3 had explained it 'a severe case of needing to sound more important than everyone else' but whatever the case it just consolidated Michael Stevens' airs of being a jackass. If Hawkins remembered right the accent was a little White Castle, a bit South End, a tad Welsh and a metric crudtonne of bull.

"Also about that… unusual matter…" Davis said, sounding a little sheepish. There was an exasperated gasp on the other end of the conversation while the man continued, "We really need you to lay down the law about Two sir…"

The PA system of the entire base crackled to life above Hawkins' head. The boss had turned it on for another important announcement.

"Attention all Staff. An announcement please on the 'Mooty' situation." Stevens' voice, sounding strained, broadcast everywhere, "It would be severely appreciated, and that is saying I insist, that this nonsense would stop. That is a twelve meter tall, custom bred and sanctioned, highly trained and monitored organic bio-weapon you are dealing with there. If I continue to get reports of people calling him 'Mooty' and treating him as their personal eighty-tonne house pet there will be stern repercussions. That is all."

"Yeah, that'll do it." Hawkins said with a smirk.

"I can't believe you made me say that." Stevens grumbled in the room beyond, his accent slipping a little.

"Thank you very much sir." Davis said in a way that Hawkins was sure accompanied a deep bow, "I will be in the situation room if anything else comes up."

"Dismissed then." Stevens said, clipping his words to the point of military precision. Hawkins found himself amused again and wondered if the desk jockey had gotten that from some old war movie. The perennially mousey and hunched over Mr. Davis quickly opened the office door and slunk down the far hall, not even giving Hawkins a look. The sailor wondered if he should have snuck past as well before that clipped bull accent caught up to him.

"And I hope you're not thinking of shirking out on me Mister Hawkins." the nasty tone called and the man referred to slumped.

"Course not." Hawkins returned, turning off his microphone to avoid feedback and heading into the room.

"I so appreciate you coming down all this way from your vacation in Nepal to grace us with your profound wisdom and help with the underground security of this installation." Stevens said as Hawkins entered the room, "But I wonder if, seeing as this is just another assigned mission from our respective higher-ups, you are taking this mission with the proper import. Are we, a bunch of humorless hicks doing worthless research, not entirely worthy of your time?"

The door closed behind Hawkins just in time for Mickey Colorado to really lay into him.

* * *

Half an hour later

Janjira, Japan

Monarch Creature Panoply Museum. First Floor Monarch Towers.

Three men, a woman and child walked up the massive array of steps to the front doors of Monarch Headquarters. To each side of them the stairs were abutted by freshly planted bushes and greens and the occasional statue of some random worthy or another. Before the group a four-story tall window of polished glass allowed the group to already see the taller statues of creatures in the museum, a three-story statue of Godzilla himself standing in the center, huge but comically undersized compared to what Ford remembered.

The sailor noticed only security staff busying themselves with the task of guarding nothing anyone was likely ever to care about in the short-term. The occasional scientist rushing about, clutching books about who knew what, or frantically plugging away at computer tablets made him wonder if this was the ghost town of lost nerds. He shook off the thought as Serizawa's assistant came hurrying down the stairs, flanked by what looked for all the world like a man pulled out of the pages of some mad scientist magazine.

"Sir, welcome back." Vivienne Graham said with a nod, holding a clipboard close to her chest, then noticed Hideki milling about behind the group and her attitude swung south, grumbling, "Oh… you."

"What? People don't like me around here. Did I take a dump in somebody's planter?" Hideki asked, glancing around at all the new shrubbery as he fixed his hair.

"We need your opinion and sign off on a lot of projects director." Graham brushed Hideki off and turned to her superior, "Our old friend is back and we need to go over things we'd rather he not see before he finds us."

"Understood." Serizawa stated without mirth, then grabbed Professor Zamalek as he turned to his guests, "I'm sorry I won't be able to accompany you on your tour. My subordinate biologist Zamalek will answer any questions you may have."

Ford noticed this Zamalek's face shift quickly from surprise to indignation then reservation in less than the time it took the man to open his mouth and address the onlookers, "Hello good family. I am Hector Zamalek, doctorate in biology, and I'll be escorting your tour through our newly designed and operational museum complex. We have quite the menagerie of problematica for your viewing enjoyment."

"Nice job, he got it in one go." Hideki pointed out, walking over to Graham and Serizawa, "I think I'll skip the penny theatrics, mind if I tag doctors?"

Graham looked like she wanted to shove Hideki off the stairs. Serizawa cut her off and nodded to him, motioning the psychologist to follow. As best Ford could tell whatever the two of them were talking about would go right over Commander Aino's head anyway. They'd met at the barricades around Ayala cove on the northern side of Angel Island just across the bay from San Francisco when Godzilla had decided to camp out there five months after his fight against the MUTO. The psychologist was with a team that had apparently included him out of bureaucratic inertia and had been wandering around outside the cordoned off area bored out of his mind. Maybe someone had decided they needed to psychoanalyze giant monsters? It hadn't made sense to either of them.

"Come come!" Dr. Zamalek called, waving Ford on. He and the rest of the family had almost gotten inside while Ford was watching Serizawa, Graham and Aino head in another door. The sailor jogged over and caught up with his family inside as they reached the Godzilla exhibit. Zamalek remained quiet for the moment as Sam rushed around reading all documentation the massive backlit panels of the exhibit held.

Sam looked confused at one part and asked, "Is a 610 GPA bad Daddy?"

Ford wasn't quite sure how to answer so Zamalek did it for him, "No, that's 610 Gigapascals, it has nothing to do with grades." the biologist said, "I'm not that much on physics, but they say that's the compression force Godzilla's armor can take. Not sure what it means myself."

Sam smiled broadly and raced to another section squealing, "OOOH look!" and before anyone actually could he quoted off "Godzilla's armor is made of super hard phase nanotubes set to allow one way passage of radiation, that's soooooo cool. Radiation goes in but it doesn't come out!"

Zamalek's face scrunched up a bit and as Ford and Elle looked at each other out of confusion he asked, "Uhm, did he even understand a little bit of what he said?"

"What? But that's what they were saying it would be on the internet." Sam pointed out.

"That's nice Sammy." Elle said, bending down and rubbing her son's shoulders, "But maybe we should leave that kind of thing till you're older."

"Hey! I'm almost seven years old!" Sam pouted. Zamalek chuckled and shook his head. Ford looked almost sheepish about the whole thing.

"He can work a smart phone better than I can." the sailor admitted.

"Kaaaayy… so I know who to go to when I need someone to spout meaningless exposition." Zamalek said with a laugh, "Even I can only look so odd when doing it."

"Grownups." Sam grumbled in a huff.

In a different part of the building, up a dozen floors in the working offices two members of Monarch, the director and his assistant, rushed through the halls with a purposeful stride as the shorter psychiatrist struggled to keep up.

"So, Morgentot's new one is active." Serizawa remarked, looking at a page from one of Graham's files, then handed it back and switched gears, "Did you get the pictures from the Himalayas?"

"Yes, there have been no new pictures of the MUTO near the Gyirong Zangbo in Tibet for a bit less than four months." Graham reported, "But there were enough villages in the area during the nine months of sightings to get a few broken up images, and even a satellite photo."

Serizawa took the stack of images, mostly older type Polaroids mixed in with a few other types of film camera shots and an aerial view. Most of the photos were too blurry to make much out. A bit of color here. An odd shadow there. Others had near misses or the image of something gold blurring across the frame. The best shots were from closer, but the creature, which must have been massive from the fact it could be photographed from a low resolution orbital satellite, had managed to remain mostly obscured by thick fog. As best the doctor could tell there was one good image of a golden scaled arm with a five-fingered hand, reminiscent of ancient dragon paintings from the region, and one of a bat type golden wing that depending on the scale would have been anywhere from fifty to ninety meters in length. The ever-present fog ran through or ruined almost every shot.

"Can they do something about the fog in the images?" Serizawa asked sensibly. Vivienne just shook her head.

"It only seems to be active during times of high pressure when the fog rises and blankets its territory." she answered, pointing to a few places on the photos, "It's never been seen at any other time and tends to move too quickly for photography."

Serizawa nodded then thought before he said, "What do the natives have to say? The best information about creatures like this is usually from local superstitions."

"Most of their talk is about dragons of particularly old age." Graham replied, "Local, primarily Chinese, dragon myths. Early on we heard Huanglong, or yellow dragon, as a name, when we were getting second-hand rumors about it, for its color. Then we heard Feilong for its wings. In every eyewitness account however it is referred to as Tienlong or heavenly dragon. It seems to have an air of majesty that has impressed the locals."

Serizawa looked to his assistant then back to the pictures, never breaking stride he nodded, "Heavenly dragon, Tienlong. Then we shall call it Tenryu." His statement, meaning they would be using the Japanese way of saying Heavenly Dragon, kept with the Monarch habit of using Japanese derived names for DaiKaiju or Great Strange Creatures.

"I'll note it sensei." Graham said as the pair turned and entered a doorway to a room apparently patterned after a naval command and control center. A multitude of great screens covered two of the walls, and a trio of operators in the middle of the room continuously monitored news and military broadcasts, hunting for MUTO action. One of those operators gestured towards the main screen. Serizawa stopped and gaped in surprise at the six-foot across display. Up on the screen was news footage, taken from helicopter. Scrolling in Indonesian, alongside English translations, were phrases like "mysterious disaster befalls tourist spot" and "resort destroyed - hundreds missing." The words were quite believable. Behind them, below the helicopter taking pictures, a large area of ground had been all but scoured clean to rock in the middle of what was otherwise an idyllic seaside vista.

"Go to English." Serizawa commanded quickly as he leaned over the operator, "Turn on the sound."

The speakers came up with a quick adjustment of the controls and the voice of a television commentator broke into the silence, "In Indonesia the Tanjung Lesung Hotel and Resort was found demolished within a 650 meter long stretch of the peninsula that looks like it has been scraped clean of every living thing. If this destruction is related to the event that scoured the ground to bedrock on the isthmus between Teluk Paraja and Teluk Keusikiega authorities are refusing to comment…"

Serizawa's face dropped. A look of great sadness showed unbidden on his features as he motioned the operator to cut off the sound. He turned and sat on the edge of the control console as Vivienne moved off to the side and tried to disappear into the rooms deep shadows. Looking up the doctor found himself peering into a pair of aged, dark brown eyes that were boring into his soul. A man, maybe a decade past Serizawa's own age, dressed in blue and gray naval fatigues, sat in the back of the room. He straightened the hat over his graying hair and stood up straight.

"It's seventeen hundred meters long, seven hundred meters wide, but only fifteen centimeters, about six inches, thick. Capable of doing over fifty-five knots in open ocean, and besides your Alpha predator and larger sailing vessels, has stripped everything it has passed over clean of life."

Serizawa sighed, knowing this, all of this, both this meeting, and the appearance of another MUTO, had only been a matter of time. He could neither say he was happy, nor altogether unappreciative, to find the venerable Admiral William Stenz in his ready room. There was only a minor bit of surprise in the doctor that Stenz had not retired as of yet, approaching seventy as the man must have been, but with Godzilla still on the loose it was likely experience was at a premium.

"It passed Godzilla and the _Kidd _a little more than three hours ago and has already made the Java Sea. We got her depth by the scrape she left on our destroyer, though for some reason there isn't a trace of rust left on the _Kidd_'s hull above or below that mark." Stenz informed the doctor, "We're looking into ways to stop it, but the damn thing is practically a fluid and if it has vulnerabilities we would appreciate knowing."

"Cold." Serizawa said, looking down to the command lectern, "It hates cold."

"Then I suppose the fact it's moved to only four degrees off the equator makes sense." the Admiral said as he circled the room, his arms behind his back, "We're somewhat short of ice cubes in that area doctor."

* * *

Near that time

A beach of Celagen, Lepar Pongok

In an area somewhat short of ice cubes.

The waves lapped lazily against the shore as the morning sun beat down on the small island beach. A short distance away there were palm trees and a sign of human settlement, but on the beach it was mostly quiet.

Only two things were moving. One of them was a speckled, white and gray, somewhat average sized rat, seemingly very interested in something it had found in the sand. What accompanied it, in the sense that it was there and alive too, was something that looked like a dark brown hermit crab that had found steroids and gotten too big for any shell to possibly hold it. The two foot across crustacean was a rare visitor to a human inhabited island, a member of the worlds largest crab species, the coconut crab.

Both the average rat and the huge crab were interested in the same patch of sand. Whatever it was, and whatever the crab wanted, didn't seem to matter because the rat wasn't letting the crab anywhere near the spot. That stopped when the crab, deciding to make the best of it, moved up and loomed over the smaller rat, which itself decided that it was standing in the wrong place just a second to late. There was a bit of a crunch as the crab grabbed the rat with one of its pincers and started beating it with the other. In short order whatever was in the sand was forgotten as the crab now had fresh rat to shovel into its mouthparts.

One of the crab's small, beady, eyes swiveled towards the water. It had caught some motion there but, being the largest creature it knew of around, the crab just went on eating until a red tentacle whipped out of the water. In an instant the crab was gone.

For a few minutes everything returned to still silence. As the waves lapped slowly against the shore new beady little eyes began popping out of the water. At first it was a few, then dozens, then thousands. All at once the water churned as bright red coconut crabs in numbers uncountable stormed the shoreline and headed towards civilization.

* * *

A few minutes later

Norzagaray, Philippines

On the hillside just south of the Ipo Dam

Zakaria was glad he rarely had to deal with situations this chaotic. It wasn't that guarding the Imam that favored him from threats couldn't pose a great deal of complications, nor was it that his other occasional job, acting as the hand of the law and bringing death to those that insulted the honor of the Imam from afar was always a neat process. No, those were different from the near chaos he had found when traveling with escort to the location his Russian contacts had identified to him using some word in their language he didn't know. Whatever they had said it apparently meant 'place where people meet on occasion while running around with no good reason and completely neglecting any meaningful form of security." That the Russians could fit such a complicated concept into one word suggested either a very efficient language or that no one had actually bothered to be in charge of anything.

Whatever the case lending a guiding hand at the faction filled multi story facility buried in the woods on one of the thousand hillsides the area seemed to be made out of would take up some of his time later. It couldn't be helped now. He had sent some of the Qod out to make a reasonable perimeter while he looked to Mostafa who was sitting on the floor of the second level while using a wall as a backrest. The doctor had gotten unsteady on the way up and Zakaria had pulled him to the side room where the man had passed out.

The guardian found it very possible that his charge had not been getting near enough sleep. The poor physicist was twitching where he sat, trying to shake though a very fitful unconsciousness.

* * *

Right then,

Everywhere and nowhere at once.

The sky was burning. The ground was burnt. Mostafa Ochbelagh was here again, where he never wanted to be but always found himself. How long? How many times? When had it started? When had he decided?

He found himself atop the mountain, but there was nothing here. He found himself looking over the world, but it was all cinders. Fires had come, passed through and gone. Now there was only him, and them.

Wrapping around itself in endless cycle as it rose from below, like tongues of flame, three heads of a burning beast burst from the ground. Horrid wings blocked out the sun as it rose from the west. Flame without smoke blazed above him as the three heads looked down and laughed each in a different voice.

All was lost. The eyes of flame gazed upon him. The death of everything had its way.

And yet… something in the world snapped. The land itself reached up and gripped the fiend, pulling pieces away. It mattered not, nothing would stop it.

And yet… something in the world shuddered. Blood like gold pooled at the foot of the mountain. The blood forced the sun to shine, wings eclipsing it or not. The blood of gold rose up in a great serpent that spread its own wings and hissed with contempt at its three-headed sire. It still mattered not, nothing could be done.

And yet, to hell with it. The mountain itself tired of being overshadowed. The rocks split, rose and stretched. Mostafa found himself amidst a sea of spines that challenged the sky for mastery of the heavens. The mountain rose to meet the heavens as blue fire blazed to burn even the beast of flame.

Mostafa Ochbelagh was thrown about and fell into the sea of blood at the mountain's feet. It pulled at him. The blood, old beyond imagining, coming to life as it sprouted wings and claws and teeth and eyes of flame. The blood tried to pull itself to the height of the three great monsters shattering the world with their war above it.

Before he sank, before the rising sun fully broke from the far horizon, Mostafa could see the rooster. That it looked unlike any bird he had ever seen mattered not. That its body was all strange angles, too many legs and leathery wings mattered not, for the sun had risen and its duty was at hand.

That one last beast in the distance raised its head.

And the rooster crowed at the advent of dawn with a voice like the blast of a trumpet.

* * *

At that time

Two miles to the North.

Monarch Containment Facility, Angat Dam

Hawkins stormed out of the bunkers and across the open field towards the tree line. Things had been going badly for him the entire half hour he'd had at the site. There was some sparring needed, badly.

He looked up towards the tree line where Brackman was working some men through their exercises. They would do. After Stevens' ribbing, then the overall head of security catching up to him and starting in just before the damn MUTO that was always loose acted up and forced him to chase it around for five minutes to get it back to the pen, someone was going to get a supposedly good-natured beating.

All the thoughts in his head were washed away in a moment. He could swear he saw it. The was no doubt he felt it.

An infrasonic roar. Sound at a note so low humans couldn't hear it, but only feel it as a jarring shock in their bones. A noise so loud it made a shockwave that rippled at the speed of sound across the field and stirred up dust in its wake, but so low it wasn't even a whisper to the sharpest human ears.

Hawkins looked back towards the hills behind the plant in shock. It had come from behind him. It was so strong it had ignored the dampening and rung its way through a facility specifically designed to be isolated from sound.

"Oh no…" Hawkins gasped, "Godzilla is coming."


	8. Gathering Clouds

At that time

South-East bank of the Sunda Straight

At the base of Mercusaur Anyer(Anyer Lighthouse)

People crowded around the base of the tall white Anyer lighthouse. There was pushing and shoving but no movement. Half the eyes in the throng were looking up in anger at the people who had taken over the top of the landmark, not caring or noticing the fact that not even one in every twenty of the people there could have fit on the small catwalk around the tower. The others were pointed out to sea, looking through binoculars, telescopes and zooming in with digital cameras.

"It's a mess down there." a man spoke. His white uniform with the symbol of Monarch demurely emblazoned on it gave away that he wasn't a local, even if he looked the part.

"They can get their own seats." another man, this one working a large set of cameras almost too big for the small landing, replied as he glanced over to the third of their number, a stern looking white woman, "This is research, not sightseeing."

"The problematica please gentlemen." the woman grumbled, bringing her binoculars up to her eyes, "Observations on Serizawa's little pet please. You can find angry Java… people, anywhere."

The observer who spoke first snorted a faux laugh as he brought up his own binoculars and looked out to sea at the massive array of dorsal fins splitting the water two miles away, then remarked, "She calls that little?"

Only a hundred meters closer, out on a small pier, another group was sitting and praying. Old chants were spoken by a man who looked ancient enough to have heard them when they were young. The group behind him, some injured, some whole but with a shocked and vacant look, chanted in time with his speech.

They had lost much of their family when a wave of red crossed into their lands to the South. They had come quickly here afterwards to send their prayers to the Gods that predated the mountains, predated the trees and the volcanoes and the times of man. They had come to pray for vengeance.

As the spines of the living mountain sliced through the seas halfway to Sangiang, they knew they would have just that.

* * *

The same second,

The field outside Meralco I, Angat Dam

In the mind of one Byran Hawkins.

What had he missed. There was something. There had to be something. His memory turned back to the preceding half hour.

The entrance to the main shafts was normal. The underground passage, then the main machine room and the power couplings. There had been nothing in the mess where power and backup power was routed across the facility.

He had inspected the external dampeners, and checked the internal doors. While the external doors were closed, most of the internal, foot thick steel doors were open. As big and heavy as even the smallest were it just took too long to raise and lower them into place so they were always open.

The central shaft and corridor had been clear. Workers as always had been running around, pushing pallets of this and that. Some men in rad suits under protocols just in case there was a leak in the zones that could get hot where they worked. All normal as anything else.

Where had he been when Koenig had caught up with him? He'd been checking the computer connections in the main hall. The whole base's computer system was stand alone, nothing in nor out, no wi-fi, only direct Ethernet. How the man had found him was a mystery. He'd been up on the catwalks over the platform at the side of the recessed main path. Few people used the raised platforms to the sides of the path for anything but getting to the connector halls, and no one went up and down them. Somehow the security chief had just known as usual.

"Hawkins!" he'd called, in his usual soft melodic tone, if you thought screaming at the top of your lungs while dropping metal pipes onto concrete was anything of the sort, "Down here! Now!"

Of course being asked so politely how could such a request be refused, so it had been time for the second dressing down of the day.

"It doesn't seem to occur to you Mr. Hawkins, that you are in charge of what happens security wise down here. Brackman is in charge of what happens security wise up there." Koenig had remarked, using useful hand gestures to point out up and down as if he was unaware of such simple concepts, "And I am in charge of BOTH YOUR ASSES and security overall."

Hawkins' mind shifted off the rest of the one-sided conversation. Something about getting the big man called on the carpet or something. It wasn't really important then, and he hadn't paid attention to it after the first sentence or so, meaning there wasn't a memory to replay. He and Koenig had never gotten along at work and the chances for a rosy future looked none too promising.

His eyes had been wandering around. There were people checking out the loudmouth shouting in a large concrete tunnel. There had been another pallet of batteries being pushed past at high speed. There was Koenig looking like he would burst a few blood vessels. Nothing of note.

In the middle of it a shadow had appeared in the far hall, against the northern passage. A loud grumbling mess of clicks and a chirp had sounded, like clockwork. Hawkins hadn't paid MUTO 2 much attention as usual. He'd paid it just about as much attention as Koenig come to mention it. The little thing had come around the corner, if little and bigger than a double-decker bus could fit in the same sentence, and done its usual act. Every time it had seen Hawkins and not expected it the thing had spread its wings, bulked itself up as much as it could, and made this trilling shriek at him.

That had at least stopped Koenig in his tracks. He and the MUTO had never gotten along, besides he was one of the people who insisted on calling it 'Mooty' for no good reason. It was at least always nice enough to step around people instead of on them, but if that was why they thought it liked anyone…

A little spark of wrongness snapped through Hawkins' mind. Something he'd missed before. He'd been too busy shooing MUTO 2 back to its enclosure to note exactly where it had come from the first time.

The MUTO had come from the North, specifically the Northeastern spur. There was no reason for it to be there. That way came from under the lake, and the only thing there was containment unit 5. There was nothing in C-5. It had been empty from the first report of the first unit to arrive. Why would MUTO 2 have come from that way?

A crackle in Hawkins ear distracted him from that train of thought. He quickly recounted the situation and realized G5 was calling him.

"G1, why are you stopped there?" Piccolo's voice spoke in his ear, "Did you see something a second ago? We had something on the visual monitors we can't explain."

Hawkins took stock of the vehicles around him quickly. The Monarch van was in the parking lot with a couple of cars near it. There were three motorcycles, one a chopper, two Japanese jobs, leaning against a building near the woods. The dam business offices down the way had five or six cars there at the moment. He'd need to get every one of his men off base as quickly as possible and avoid Stevens while doing it.

"G5, G1." he said under his breath, "Lock and mark, infrasonic roar detected, wildfire protocol, break and regroup team one, team two on standby."

"Wait? What?" G5 was caught off guard, a rare occasion, "Say again, infrasonic?"

Hawkins cursed inaudibly. He hadn't factored in the time it took for sound to travel. An infrasonic roar of the magnitude a large MUTO could make might be able to round the globe, but it still traveled no faster than any other sound. Forty seconds since the burst. The command trailer was twenty miles away.

"All audio sensors to North-Northeast." Hawkins commanded, "Infrasonic wave incoming. Less than sixty seconds."

"All audio on and tuned." G5 said, switching to clipped, precise wording, "G4 and G2 alerted, all systems up and running."

Hawkins walked steadily towards the treeline. He motioned to Midas and Taylor that there was an emergency and to get everyone the hell out of dodge, then vanished into the wilderness.

"Check times, starting forty seconds before my mark." Hawkins ordered, still speaking quietly as he turned South towards the closest base, "I want to know when that pulse will hit Hong Kong, then when they'll get triangulation from Jakarta and Janjira."

"Go! Go!" G1 heard G5 snapping his fingers and relaying orders through the microphone.

"What's the timeframe on Mostafa finishing his devices?" Hawkins asked, starting to run through the wilderness, it was only a few miles to the southern base by Ipo Dam but they were hilly miles and he didn't have time to waste, "We need to move up the schedule."

"He's having some problems at the moment." Piccolo pointed out, glancing at the Iranian being helped up by Zakaria on a side monitor, "Best guess would be three days."

"We need to speed that up." Hawkins said with conviction.

"Any suggestions how?"

"We're going to need someone special OPS trained." Hawkins replied, weaving through the trees, "And damn good with bombs."

* * *

That same time,

Monarch Containment Facility, Angat Dam

Operations Room, just below Bunker #1

The pen fell out of Michael Stevens' mouth. It made a clatter on the operations room floor, but he hardly noticed it. He turned in his seat, glancing at the interior monitors and put his coffee down. The bright, sterile lighting of the room had never felt so out of place.

Davis glared at the main screen, eyes agape. Readings from the tremor sensors outside the base were just beginning to show a pattern. First just mixed general background noise, then a tall spike, a drop, and a long, discordant note. The note made a long plateau then dropped of only to spike again once more. The diminutive scientist started racing around the operations room, running from the upper and lower level. Stevens swore if the man could have vaulted the guard rails he would have.

"Trouble Mister Davis?" Stevens asked from his small daïs at the side of the room. The project lead's observation platform, while the highest point on the floor, was off to the side as to sensibly avoid tripping anyone running the levels if they were in a rush.

"Checking, checking!" Davis called back, the repeated word coming out much more angry the second time around. Stevens figured the little fellow had actually annoyed himself with the thoughts running through his head. "We've got a read on a single burst low-frequency transmission."

"Coming from us?" Stevens remarked quizzically in his best British tone, "We're supposed to be isolated you know."

"Yes yes! This one was strong. I think it overwhelmed the isolation." Davis said, pressing a dozen buttons a second and shoving his way in front of the operations staff to work at their consoles, "This isn't outer space. We don't exist in a vacuum. There's only so much you can do with absorptive materials and geographies."

"Quite." Stevens added with a nod, looking to his watch, "Options."

"Feigned ignorance, disinformation, or aggressive response." a tall Filipino replied from his post standing near the monitors, "Pretend we didn't hear it, misreport the timing of when we pick up the pulse, or call in political support to run interference."

"Ah, good man." Stevens said, nodding in a bemused manner, "It's unfortunate the second option is unavailable, since no one is at the original Monarch listening post and we don't have the facilities to fake a report from their position given the security protocols."

"Err… we did cannibalize the systems there didn't we." Davis remarked, running his hand over the large bald spot between his ears.

"So we ignore it, and call in interference if it becomes necessary." Stevens ordered, nodding at his own authoritative action, "Oh, Mister Davis."

"Sir?"

"Make sure it doesn't happen again." Stevens remarked, leaning his head forward on his hands and giving the man an eerie smile, "One pulse we might be able to defuse, more than one?"

"Yes! Yes Sir!" the little man almost saluted as he ran to the MUTO facility entrance. He tripped on the stairs on the way up, but caught himself and rushed all the quicker because of it.

Stevens smiled wanly as the little man rushed out of earshot then turned towards the tall Filipino, "Oh, and Restituto."

"Yes Sir?" the taller man, dressed in fatigues that looked vaguely militant without suggesting a national origin, asked.

"Make sure our Mister Davis… Makes sure." Stevens finished with a grin and went back to his business.

* * *

Also at the same time,

Janjira, Japan

Monarch Headquarters Ready Room

The sound of a helicopter in flight nearly dominated what was coming over the speakers, but in the midst of it an irate voice with a Norwegian accent cut clearly through. Serizawa and Graham bent over one of the consoles, watching a grainy image of who they were talking to while Admiral Stenz held back, not clearly interested or disinterested.

"…got them finally drilling in at an angle!" Olaf Svenson shouted grouchily into the microphone he was holding while someone behind the camera kept it aimed at him, "I swear those eggheads were going out of their way to kill themselves!"

"We are pleased you were available to head down and set them right Mr. Svenson." Dr. Serizawa remarked, bowing slightly and hoping the image could be made out on the Norwegian's small handheld, "Electrical interference has been preventing direct contact with the base. The data stream your system is relaying is all we have so far."

"Well then it's good I needed to head out to a permanent base camp for more equipment." Svenson said back, looking at his device and changing it to information mode, "Hope these New Zealanders are nice people, haven't seen much of them. Ross Island eh? They certainly loved that ol' Briton around here."

"Yes, yes." Serizawa said, looking to keep Olaf on task, "Did Morgentot say much about the sample data?"

"Besides the fact he was so interested in getting samples of frozen stuff buried under ice he almost BECAME frozen stuff buried under ice?" Olaf returned with a chuckle, "He was going on about some finding or other, said to look really, really close at the creatures they found buried in there. Something was wrong with his stromatolites, anomalocaridids and dragonflies. Said they were all made out of the same thing."

"Most carbon based life is generally made of very similar components." Serizawa explained, bringing up the images of the files Svenson mentioned, "I wonder what he meant by that."

"Maybe a similar diet?" Dr. Graham offered, noticing that the images actually could be zoomed in and magnified through attached files down past the cellular level, "We can check the contents on the second two, but stromatolites had few similarities to later creatures."

"Zoom in as close as possible, we'll look at things from the bottom up." Serizawa requested as the turned his screen back to Olaf, "Is there anything else Morgentot was interested in?"

"Just an electrical field at the site, really weak overall but enough with the magnetic conditions to disrupt communications." Svenson pointed out, "Nothing major…"

"Doctor… this can't be right." Vivienne interrupted, turning Serizawa's screen over to a split view of the cell structures.

"The shape is odd." Serizawa said without much thought, hiding a bit of irritation at his subordinate, the three sets of samples in front of him did have a somewhat unusual round and almost saw-toothed look to them, "Which specimen is this from?"

"Not one, all three." Graham pointed out, bringing Serizawa's eyes suddenly back to the set of images, "There's no difference in the samples. Not only that, there is nearly no specialization in any of the cells, they're almost identical. The creatures they come from have only vestigial, non-functioning organs and besides some calcification of the cell walls in the harder parts, and traces of protein threads linking the muscular areas, the cells are entirely homogenous."

Dr. Serizawa glared in stunned silence at the images. All three samples weren't separate creatures, but the efforts of a single community of single-celled organisms. How that could even be possible. He wracked his brain for any other example of mimicry at this level. Certain single-celled organisms, even to this day, existed in colonial structures, working together to form larger, more effective wholes, but they always worked together in the same way to form the same thing.

"What does this mean doctor?" Admiral Stenz said, piping in from behind the shocked scientists.

"That it may be impossible to find." Serizawa said, mind in crisis mode, "Besides red, from high iron content, it could be anything."

"The electrical signals?" Dr. Graham said, half to herself in her brainstorming.

"Simple communication possibly? It would be faster across aggregate constructs than trying to use chemical hormones for messages." Serizawa worked out her line of thoughts, "But then why is there still…"

Serizawa's eyes shot open wide and he grabbed an outstretched microphone, bringing it closer to his mouth to make sure his words were understood.

"Svenson! Can your helicopter make it back to the site?" he asked quickly.

"What? No no, we can't." Olaf replied back, "We're riding on fumes as it is. Stripped down to carry as much equipment as we have been we can only manage about four hundred fifty miles one way, and we're down to the last fifty of that. Why?"

"Get back to Morgentot as fast as you can then." Serizawa ordered, looking back to Stenz, "Lives depend on it."

* * *

A minute after the author ran out of ways to say "about that time"

Monarch Containment Facility, Angat Dam

Outside the Operations Room,

Restituto slipped out of the Operations room with a notable sigh of relief. The mess and bustle of that place usually went over his head and he was glad to get out of there. While he was sure Brackman or Midas would be able to handle it better they were always busy doing one thing or another. Following Davis and making sure he actually was working had landed in his lap, so it was now his responsibility.

Coming out to the hallway Restituto signaled his lieutenant, Paras, to follow him. Things would be heating up and while the first mercenary didn't trust the his lieutenant as far as he could throw him as far as making the right choices out of a fight, he could be quite useful for his bulldog attitude when in it. As it was the shorter Polynesian at least made decent company.

The two men nodded to each other as they headed out. Paras, as he usually did, had kept track of where Mr. Davis had shuffled off to and pointed them through the machine room. The way there was a short one, the machine room just under the power plant, and it got louder and louder as they approached. Soon they were in the midst of the equipment, mostly white noise generators and power systems the size of mobile homes.

Glancing around they picked out a few of the guards that were stationed there and nodded to each as they walked over the metal grate the place had for a floor. Restituto glanced up and back as they headed around the main bilge well and saw a few of Midas's men above them, almost hidden in an overhang made by a piece of machinery that stretched across the room.

The redhead, Martins, nodded and waved towards the passage Davis had head up, correctly guessing their orders. Restituto smiled and made a motion like tipping his hat in thanks, though he had none on his head, before heading out towards the main corridors beyond.

They caught up with the diminutive man fussing over some computer panel hidden behind a metal plate near the floor of the main corridor and figured at least the man was doing something so they wouldn't bother him. Davis's minders simply leaned back on the far side of the massive passage and kept an eye on him. In the midst of it Restituto noticed their overseer Koenig wandering around, looking peeved at something or other. The head mercenary waved the security chief over.

"Anything wrong sir?" Restituto asked.

Koenig glanced about then looked at Davis for a second before returning his gaze to the mercenaries, "It's getting busy down here." he pointed out, "Has anyone seen Byran recently?"

* * *

Back in Janjira, Japan

Monarch Headquarters Ready Room

"We have to clear an area around the new MUTO, get people away from it."

"That's a good strategy doctors." Admiral Stenz replied to Dr. Graham's suggestion, "But one that would rely on us knowing where it is and where it's going. If it is still near the equator it has a lot of room to maneuver around before it hits anything cold."

"We can't expect it to do anything outside its best interest." Serizawa noted, "The report from your ship, the _Kidd_, suggested at the best only survival instinct and an attempt to copy the most powerful organism it could locate, as did the earlier reports from the whaling vessel. At the worst however, as it has copied creatures with neural systems in the past, if each cell in it is acting as a neuron, this MUTO could show unprecedented intelligence."

"All the more reason to follow my advice, including what I was saying just prior, and what I've been saying ever since San Francisco." Stenz retorted with a firm resolution, "Give me a way to get rid of the biggest problem we can find, so we can deal with these things one at a time."

"We've been over this Admiral…" Serizawa started.

"And we'll keep going over it. Some people might love that thing, but it has my higher-ups and a lot of powerful people in a panic." Stenz cut in, "Hell Congress even recommissioned old BB-64 and shoved her down my throat, though I think they were just looking for an excuse all along."

"Not my business Admiral." Serizawa replied angrily. Below Stenz' line of sight Serizawa, without looking down, pulled a cell phone from his pocket.

"High velocity kinetic penetrators." Admiral Stenz put forth, "We can have rail guns in a few years."

"Yes you could." Serizawa growled back, typing something and sending it without looking, "However, as Gojira would naturally be an exotherm, if not for the continual reaction of approximately nine thousand tons of highly radioactive, fluid suspended, fissionable material, I would not like to be upon that hemisphere of the planet should you decide to blow him open."

"And the nuke down the throat theory?" Stenz added, though even he looked as if that one wasn't one of his ideas.

"First ticket to the Moon please." Vivienne poked at him with little sarcasm as a quick text message tone played somewhere in the back of the room, "It would probably be the best ringside seat to watch that explosion from."

Serizawa looked to the side, but shrugged and nodded. He was willing to give that stretching of probabilities a pass.

Admiral Stenz straightened his shoulders and was about to start in just before someone clearing his throat from the back of the room caught him short. Hideki, who just about everyone had forgotten about by this point, slid in from the back of the room, fixing his hair, and bowed to the Admiral.

"Ah, big Mr. USA Big Guy-San." he called out, getting in between the scientists and the soldier, all while sporting a sudden accent that had to be embarrassing for any self respecting oriental, "No rike big rizard-san! No 'Murrica hell yeah! Bad ratings on Faux-news!"

"Doctors I…" Stenz began, obviously startled by the newcomer and not actually listening to him. Hideki motioned the two to get out of the room while he ran interference.

"Go Go 'Murrica!" Hideki spouted, "Eazy answer, all 'Murrica probrems! Shoot wit big gun! Not work! Shoot wit biggah gun!"

"Wait? WHAT?" Stenz glared at Hideki like something off the bottom of his shoe came to life and kicked him in the gonads.

"Good! Good! 'Murrica! Kira da rizard! Bomb it." Hideki cried, "Get good ratings on faux-news!"

Stenz grumbled and pushed past Hideki only to notice Graham and Serizawa had slipped out, Grumbling the Admiral turned back to his provocateur, one eyebrow raised.

"Well played." the Admiral remarked, then turned to see if he could find where Serizawa and Graham had gone.

Hideki just smiled, fixed his hair, and arms behind his back shuffled on out of the room after the Admiral, whispering, "Kira da reeezard, Kira da reeeeezard." to his own personal tune.

Godzilla's roar made both the psychologist and Admiral jump. Stenz just took it as another distraction and headed on, starting to get lost in the twisting corridors on the Ready level. Hideki stopped and checked his cellphone. His expression soured as he saw who it was from. He thought about it for a second and Godzilla roared at him again.

Fixing his hair Hideki answered the call, "Hello?" careful not to give his antagonist any more ammunition, then after a second, "Wait… you didn't start with a joke. How bad is it?"

Hideki's face went from sour to grave and he glanced at his watch, "I think so. Look he isn't ready for active… I know you just need him for one thing, but Hawkins will latch on the second he… Yeah, well you're going to have to ask him, set up on scramble three four nine and I'll give you the go."

The psychologist hung up the phone and replaced it in his side pocket. He shook his head sadly. There was one family that was unlikely to appreciate this.

"Wow… that's a shrimp?"

Elle's voice rang out in the spacious multi story interior of the Creature Menagerie. She walked around the particularly large exhibit she'd been talking about, trying to get an idea of the thing. Professor Zamalek walked up and pointed to a few parts of the large brown and yellow, house sized object in front of them.

"Yes yes, it's a bit harder to make out since it's on its back." he said, smiling.

"On its… oh I get it, those are legs." Elle said, eyes agape, "I thought it was some sort of boat."

"It's our largest set of actual remains." Zamalek admitted as Ford came around the thing from the other direction, "Though I suppose we were lucky no one came past with a boatload of cocktail sauce at that moment."

"Don't know if I would eat that, even with sauce." Ford remarked, looking a bit queasy. He looked around, from the giant stuffed ape behind glass, to the skeleton of one flying creature, then across the scale model of another, larger, blue and black flier.

Ford shook his head, and said "I don't see Sam anywhere." with an air of resignation.

There was some movement off to their right, down in a well made so that two extra-large replicas could fit under the ceiling. Sam dashed in and about a set of legs the size of tree trunks. Playing hide and seek in the inconstant light coming off the information panels he glanced back at his family and the weirdo escorting them. With a grin Professor Zamalek hit a red button beside him on a display lectern. In a moment Sam's hiding space was lit up by a bright red glow. The male MUTO statue he was hiding under lit up with an unearthly glow just like a real one. The three-story tall female statue further on lit brightly too.

"Sneaky hiding space little one." Zamalek crowed, grinning as Ford and Elle caught up with their wayward son, "But these insectoid MUTO shed light of their own."

"They're bright!" Sam gasped in awe, "You actually saw these things Dad?"

"All too close." Ford said, deadpan, "Them and their glow."

"Optic neuron spillover actually." Zamalek said as if the words meant something to the average person, and then holding his hands up to the statues he explained further, "The glow is concentrated anywhere a large number of nerves gather near the surface of the creature. The eyes, the tips of their feeling appendages, and in the female's case around her egg sack."

"Optic?" Ford looked back at Zamalek, interested in the word.

"Yes, this type uses light in its axions to transfer information along its nerves." Zamalek said, "Which allows it to gather and produce its scrambling field without being affected by it."

"The EMP you mean." Ford, who was kneeling next to Sam and rubbing his head, said.

Zamalek smiled, puffing himself up, and explained, "Sort of a misnomer actually. Most modern equipment, especially military ones, are protected from EMPs. A pulse wouldn't even knock them out for a second. Also things unprotected if hit by an EMP, well that would be it, they wouldn't come back up. Your father was close in his estimation, but couldn't have known without an actual study of the creature and it's effects."

"So they don't EMP things? That doesn't make sense." Ford protested, "I saw stuff shut down."

"Computers mostly." Zamalek agreed, "Which doesn't do aircraft with move-by-wire any good. The effect actually influences electron transfer. In large-scale electronics the wires are protected by insulation, but in microelectronics the systems are machined so precisely and use such small voltages they needed no insulation, until our arthropod, insectoid, things here showed up. Their scattering field bumps electrons out of those careful channels, everything starts cross-talking to everything else, and your computer goes bwoooo… along with everything attached to it."

"Still doesn't make any sense as a weapon from before the dinosaurs." Ford pointed out.

"Actually it does." Zamalek said, walking over to a computer display, "Did you notice any numbness or tingling when you were very close to the MUTO?"

"I either got scared out of my wits or blown twenty feet." Ford said, getting a bop from Elle, "I experienced a LOT of numbness and tingling."

"Well, save the obvious effects." Zamalek acknowledged with a chuckle, then brought up two diagrams of a nerve cell, "The actual motive for the power is here. I won't bore you with the big words, and I'm not a neuroscientist anyway, but here…"

The professor pointed to the screen and certain parts of it, where in one diagram little symbols saying Na and K were moving around freely in the other they seemed to be taking stuttering steps, "The most common form of neuron, the ones in us, and we assume Godzilla, work on a smooth transfer of charges in the nerves. Within a MUTO scattering field the speed is halved."

Elle looked up at the screens. That kind of biology wasn't something she handled every day as a nurse, but she had to take a bit of it in her courses.

"That wouldn't slow a person down much professor." she pointed out.

"No, very true, the speed is still hundreds of miles per hour either way, and across a species which rarely exceeds two meters between brain and feet, you won't feel much, but…" the professor started, then pointed towards the great Godzilla statue at the entrance, "…how do much do you think a creature with over a hundred meters between those two points would be affected?"

Ford nodded. He thought back to how slow the movements of Godzilla had seemed. In the field he'd just put it up to natural inertia, but something that had outrun aircraft carriers, crossed an entire city before its opponent noticed it approaching… The two speeds didn't match. Ford's train of thought was derailed when Hideki appeared at the top of the steps, gave a whistle to the sailor and motioned him to come over. Elle looked like she would come too but Hideki made a slight hand motion that warned her off.

"What's up Hi?" Ford asked, walking over. The psychologist motioned him over toward a door that led under one of the massive displays.

"Not here, in private." Hideki said, "That door is open and someone needs to talk to you."

Ford got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach as he motioned to Elle to keep Sam and Zamalek occupied while he headed off with his fellow officer. The two of them slipped away through the door, into the small, but private, workroom and Hideki set his smart phone on a table, hit the speaker and stepped back.

"You remember my buddy Piccolo?" Hideki said as the phone was connecting, "There's a problem not terribly far from here and he needs some help."

"Doesn't sound good if he's calling outside the chain." Ford remarked, crossing his arms, deep in thought.

"It isn't Mr. Brody, it isn't at all." the voice of G5 responded over the speaker, the phone having connected just in time, "My name is Marcus Piccolo, Colonel, United States Marine Corps, officially retired."

"Hello Sir." Ford said, resisting the urge to snap to, even though the person over the phone could hardly be expected to see him.

"Hello Lieutenant. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, though I'd rather it be over some home cooking back in the States." Piccolo replied with a slight chuckle, "I hate to ask you to do something that interrupts your leave. I know I needed them when I got them, but I have a situation that's been dumped on my desk in here in the Philippines and I need a very specific talent."

"That's a bit of a distance Sir." Ford pointed out. He could almost sense the Colonel's nod over the phone.

"True, a few hours on a plane each way, you'll probably waste a day of leave." Marcus answered, gravely, "But on your rotation to Afghanistan in thirteen you did disarm a suitcase bomb in Kabul. Complicated sort, beyond your usual IED."

"Yeah, outside a school that accepted girls. Didn't know if I was ever getting home on that one." Ford admitted, "You don't have another one of those do you Sir? They're a nightmare."

"No son, actually I need one put together." Marcus said, stopping Ford in his tracks, and before the horrified look on the young lieutenant's face could turn into words he headed him off, "Look, we have a group down here hell-bent to go down the same road, with the same things, that got your father killed. We have a chance at a surgical option that'll prevent a lot of people from dying, keep the millions of civilians here safe, but we're out of time. At 10:45 your time one of the creatures in their containment got out a roar, it will reach Japan by 13:15, we have to get the munitions done today and deployed by tomorrow. If the situation isn't under control by then the world's militaries will descend on this place, and you've seen just what happens in that scenario, even before Godzilla gets here."

Ford punched a metal cabinet, hard, the innocent object catching the brunt of his frustration. Hideki twitched, but smiled a bit. Ford reached over to the cell phone and hung it up without preamble. He didn't need to tell them his decision.

"What's the route?" he asked, "I have to tell Elle I'll be away."

"There was a routine flight to Manila delayed by a storm at Tokyo." Hideki responded, falling into step as Ford batted the exit door out of his way with a fist, "We can be at the bullet train station in fifteen, airport fifty-five after that. Make it out before the roar reaches."

Dr. Ishiro Serizawa stood alone in the meeting room just above the Creature Menagerie. He stared out into the city through the wide bank of windows before him, looking out over everything the recent years had provided, and everything the last seventeen had wrought. He was getting too old to be running around, dodging Admirals and Generals while dashing off to one place or another hoping every little thing they found wasn't the harbinger of another disaster. He missed his father's watch at times like these, but if he'd held onto it the poor thing would have been worn down to its dial by now with all his constant worried rubbing.

Below him, on long, wide flight of marble steps that lead out of the compound, he noticed a pair of figures. They were in a hurry as they took the steps a couple at a time, heading for a dark gray van he didn't recognize at the entrance. The doctor leaned forward and took a closer look.

It was Hideki Aino, and Ford Brody. The younger man's family was nowhere to be seen. They both looked like they were in a hell of a hurry.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Serizawa turned on his heel and rushed back out of the room.


	9. Departures

Mindanao, Philippines

Mt. Apo National Park. On the West slope of Mt. Apo

Even in February the heat before noon on the Philippine island of Mindanao was sweltering. The early morning humidity, dews, fogs and cloud cover, had burnt off and only the baking sun was left to beat down on the great forested slopes of the Philippines tallest mountain.

The sun beat down on the trees, and on the ground, covered with forest litter. Some distance off a few locals were beating the heat in a swimming pool sized pond, racing around and playing. The sun also beat down on one lazy little bird as it poked around an open field, pecking at this and that on the ground.

By looks the bird was a type of dove, something far more colorful than the average white model or pigeon. Coated with a mix of iridescent, shining, green, brown and gray feathers, above a white belly and bright red chest spot, the foot long bird did a decent job of standing out.

Poking and pecking about in the typical little hesitating, dove with nothing to do, gait, the little fellow found a flat spot in the plain amidst the leaf debris and grasses. The bird's roaming took it into the center of the perfectly square flat area, towards a particularly appetizing something or other. Bending its head down the dove took a peck at some white paste laid out there.

Flying on wings built for soaring, high above the dove, a large, whitish eagle watched the smaller bird below it. A dove wasn't something on the favored menu of a Philippine Eagle, but it kept an eye on it while checking for anything more worth the effort of catching. Something the size of an eagle was more adept at catching owls or monkeys, larger prey worth the time, but it wouldn't just ignore a free meal.

Below the avian bird watcher, the little dove twitched slightly as the white paste poked the bird's skin at the edge of its bill. Shaking its little dove head the bird craned its neck, working out some kink then fluffed its feathers. A black tar bubbled up from the ground, slid up the bird's leg and ensconced itself under the dove's fluffed belly feathers. Unfazed the little bird flattened its feathers back down and started preening on the spot, making sure every feather was back in place.

A shadow fell upon the dove. Wings outstretched in a giant air brake, talons extended forward to grasp, the great eagle, intent on grabbing its next meal, reached out for the dove. The smaller bird paid it no heed.

There was a flash of gold, a flickering of amber blades. In an instant the hawk broke apart into neatly segmented eighths and fell past the dove to make a bloody stain on the ground down the hillside.

Finally getting done fixing its feathers the little dove took wing and headed North.

* * *

MUTO Containment Unit Two

Monarch Angat Dam Containment Facility

The sound of clicking and that of a ratchet going to work had meshed together to form something of an echoing chorus like crickets at night. Tired hands finally fitted and refitted the last of the containment clamps in place. The worker, resplendent in his overly hot and stifling radiation suit, tried unsuccessfully to wipe his brow under the helmet.

"You done up there yet?" from the floor of the unit a supervisor called up to the worker. The man, in his own radiation suit, was waiting with pen and clipboard to sign off on the last of the adjustments. The sickeningly harsh fluorescent lighting banished all shadows in the massive circular cement chamber, leaving anyone with no doubt just how troublesome a position the worker and supervisor were in. In the middle of the plain, blank silo, rested Unit Two's specimen, still twelve meters tall and long yet dwarfed by a container that could hold at least one full-sized MUTO in spartan comfort.

The worker signaled he was finished from his hazardous perch atop the resting MUTO. He had definitely finished fitting the clamps over Mooty's second arms that kept him from sprouting his wings. The worker hopped down quickly from leg to leg, off the reclining giant.

"Man, only two of us to fit today?" the worker complained, "Where is the security detail?"

"Maybe it's their day off?" the supervisor fretfully joked, checking off the last box, "We don't need any security for Mooty."

"Heh, maybe." the worker chuckled, "I still think that fitting has got to hurt."

"Nah, baby didn't even wake up." the supervisor motioned over to the MUTO's eyes, which were as dark as coal, "See? Lights are out and nobody's home."

"Well that's good. Time to go."

The two staff moved over to the exit gate while they chattered away. The fact they were working in a radioactive environment seeming not to even register.

"So where you headed tonight?" the supervisor said, punching in the opening code in the keypad.

Top Right, Bottom Right, Left, Left.

"Headed up to Bigte Market with some friends, grab some grub for a big cookout."

The pair walked on and closed the entrance behind them. The cement portal closed, then sealed, the dampening cutting off their conversation abruptly.

In the middle of the room a giant wedge-shaped head moved. A tiny spark of light, missed by the workers, spread out across the creature's eye.

Top Right, Bottom Right, Left, Left.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later,

International meeting place and G-Unit rally point.

On the hillside just south of the Ipo Dam

Zakaria, sitting upon his chair in the meeting room, a broad wing of the house, perched on the overlook and surrounded by windows, found himself wondering just how the plan to eradicate the MUTO threat had managed to ever get off the ground. It was amazing, even with them having such a large room and all, that the collection of egos and bitter grudges contained within could possibly fit.

On one hand, and one area of the room, off to the side of the meeting table, sat the grand representatives of the American Central Intelligence Agency. They were a bit of a mixed bunch, three in laughably stereotypical black on black suits, and two more in something that looked a bit more at home in the desert. The group couldn't even seem to agree amongst themselves no less anyone else. The suits were knowledgeable to a fault but not very practical. The men in tan shorts and azure tops seemed very practical, but not high enough ranking to pull their superiors out of the deep end they kept trying to dive into.

The Russians were a bit more staid and didn't let politics or idealism derail them, they were too busy burying themselves in unreasonable demands and requests for access no one in their right mind would give them. For some reason Zakaria could not think of them as anything other than KGB. He knew the organization had changed letters, but the thick accents and older, suits they were using, very frayed around the edges, just gave off the air of something from a James Bond film. While it was an act they played the curmudgeonly, stubborn, overly planned out Russian stereotype perfectly.

He could see both sides, and a few other single observers here and there, someone from Britain, France and maybe an Indian or Pakistani, he couldn't tell directly, were so busy feeling each other out and getting the proper positions on everything that they were going to get nowhere. It would have been horrible if the mixture of feuding spies, or whatever they called themselves lately, had really been needed beyond setting things up. It was already horrible just listening to them, so Zakaria tuned the lot out and pretended he was just an unimportant Iranian representative, not one of the few men who actually controlled the mission and would see combat during it.

Glancing back over his shoulder he could see the men of the American second unit drilling in the field under the estate. Not all of them were there, and he doubted anyone could tell by looking how many were actually around, but just enough were practicing the harder parts of the mission for Zakaria to tell they meant serious business.

Out beyond that there was a small clearing with an older model Bell helicopter in it. One of the jet ranger types from the late seventies if the Persian hadn't missed his guess. It would likely have no computer systems in or about it, like most of the equipment the Americans had brought. That wouldn't save it from everything a MUTO could throw at it, but by the look of the man who was doing a walk around on it, there were probably a few surprises in that ride.

Zakaria contented himself with watching the placid waters behind Ipo dam as the Americans and Russians started disagreeing about something, yet again. The whole thing had started to make him wonder if he should have assigned someone else to the shouting match, but he was a good enough leader not to stir up that level of bad blood before a mission. Navid might just have been convinced though, after being hung up a tree by his underwear.

With his eyes in that direction anyway Zakaria was the first to note a person running full tilt across the dam in their direction. It had only been four hours since their first meeting, and the golden-haired man running towards their position had made quite the impression, so he was let pass quickly by the Qod perimeter.

Zakaria noticed Hawkins wasn't all that winded, or sweating, when he rushed up the hillside to the meeting-house. The man must have been in very good shape to make such a run. The blond chief came in through the sliding glass doors of the meeting room and glanced around quickly. The conversation stopped for but a second as everyone looked the man up and down, then resumed with accusations.

Hawkins was having none of it, pointing sharply at the group of supposed diplomats to make sure they knew who he was talking to he started barking orders, "You! Shut up!" and not giving them a chance to reply he looked over to Zakaria, "We're moving up the bomb schedule. We're getting someone to help. One of the MUTOs just got a call out."

Zakaria's heart sank, the mission was riding on such a tight schedule to begin with, at least for his crew. He got up from his chair without a word and wheeled around, heading back into the building to check on Mostafa. As he did Hawkins quickly began moving from group to group, apparently also talking on some hidden microphone, as he continued getting things ready.

They had to make it in time.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later,

Janjira, Japan

Monarch Headquarters, outside briefing room twelve.

Dr. Ishiro Serizawa leaned on the wall outside the briefing room and let out a long, drawn out, sigh. His hand twitched, subconsciously trying to take hold of his father's watch. The day had been long and was getting longer, yet it was not even lunch. Trying to do anything decisive at Monarch now had to be forced in between meeting with different interests, teleconferences, notes, memos, and disasters.

Serizawa glanced around. He'd thought the word disaster and Zamalek hadn't popped up. It was definitely an unusual day.

A look at his watch told Serizawa it was 11:37am. A little more than a half hour ago he'd seen Ford Brody and Hideki Aino rushing out to an unmarked vehicle. Since Zamalek was still showing the Brody family around as of the last time Serizawa had checked on them, wherever the head of the household was traveling, it was without his family.

Reaching into his pocket Serizawa pulled out his smartphone. As the central figure in his last twenty-minute long meeting he'd been unable to see if his assistant had managed to find out where the elder Brody was headed. That quest may have tuned out impossible if they were just headed locally, but if they were traveling any distance Graham may have been able to…

As he walked past the Ready room Graham's mail stopped him and his thought processes in their tracks.

Re: Ford Brody Travel Plans

Ford Brody, Hideki Aino.

Reservations: Tokyo Haneda Airport. NH 869

All Nippon Airways Co, Tokyo to Manila

Warning: Flight is severely delayed.

Normal Departure time 09:55

Current time 11:38, Likely Departure 12:35

Dr. Serizawa looked at his phone in shock. He couldn't understand what force in the world could possibly get Ford Brody away from his family when he was on leave. He typed a quick reply message to Graham and glanced back at the doorway to the meeting room. Things were getting complicated. Could it have to do with the new MUTO? They couldn't have known where it was going to end up.

The clock clicked to 11:39.

"Check that!"

"Hong Kong, get me a confirm on that. Are we looking at Atmospheric Wave Zoo or unique waveform match?"

"Check on microbarograph! We have nothing here."

Turning his eyes over to the ready room beside him, Serizawa turned. Bracing himself in the doorway and leaning into the room he saw an uncomfortably familiar visage of panic spreading from one operator to the next.

"Hong Kong confirming it's not AWZ, signal is loud and in the clear. Infrasound has been confirmed by microbarograph. Heavy pulse wave. Repeat, heavy pulse wave."

Serizawa looked up to the main screen in confusion. It was showing a world map with an alert symbol blinking around Hong Kong. The Monarch lead tipped his head and thought about asking what was going on until the main monitor switched to a different image. Instead of a map it was a the graph of a sonic disturbance. A peak, drop, long plateau to another drop and peak.

The doctor's jaw dropped. What would move Ford Brody. What would make him break off from his family and run, run not away, but toward. He rushed into the ready room, bringing his smartphone to his ear as he began working one of the free consoles.

"Dr. Graham." he said, only waiting for Vivienne to pick up before he started talking, not even pausing for her to acknowledge, "Get a helicopter to the roof and clear us a route to Haneda airport. We have to get there before twelve thirty-five."

"Perth reports negative, Singapore negative, Jakarta negative, Manila negative…"

"Manila negative?" Serizawa took a glance at the nearest operator's screen and indeed Manila was negative. The plot of possible originations for the pulse looked a bit like an odd teardrop, spaced as it was around Hong Kong. With only one station registering the pulse the possible locations were simply plots of places in which the sound could have reached Hong Kong, yet not any of the other major infrasound detectors in Monarch's network.

"Double check on Manila." Serizawa ordered, holding his head away from the phone. Something wasn't making sense. He put his ear back to the phone.

"Acknowledged, double checking."

"Yes, yes." the doctor spoke to Graham on the other end of the line, "Tickets for the two of us to Manila… On the delayed flight. Can we make it?"

"Second denial from Manila, they report negative." the operator said, then hit a few switches and began looking at his monitor with a bit of uneasiness, "I'm not getting their direct feed though, verbal only. Doctor, they're asking why we're interested in rechecking only their report."

Something struck him odd about the operator's last statement, but Serizawa didn't have time to ponder it. He was in charge and had to make the call. Monarch's resources were finite and proper deployment was vital to gain needed scientific information. Striking while the iron was hot rarely had such a significant meaning. Serizawa's mind was already made up.

"Is Nogumo still in charge in Manila?" Serizawa asked. The whole organization had been so busy in the rest of the world lately the doctor realized to his shame that he had little information on the Manila office.

The operator shook his head, "No, his assistant, Stevens, took over full control eight years ago."

Serizawa's shoulders slumped in shock, realizing how little he'd paid attention to the important area the arthropod MUTO had come from ever since Janjira had become the hot spot. He shook his head sadly, looking downward, then turned to the operator. At least Stevens, as much as the doctor could remember of him, was the reasonable and level-headed sort.

"Tell him I'll be headed there, and prepare for scientific deployment." Serizawa said, a little chagrined he'd be ordering around someone who'd been ignored by the organization for almost a decade, "And he should restore his sensor feeds."

"Yes sir."

Vivienne Graham poked her head into the ready room, her hair swaying with the speed she'd reached the doorway. Serizawa turned towards her.

She cocked her head, looking quizzical, and asked, "Sensei, is something happening in Manila?"

Downstairs in the creature menagerie Dr. Zamalek was shocked to see his boss rushing past. With Graham following behind him Serizawa stepped up to the display at the very front of the museum. They both stood there for a sorrowful second.

Sam rushed up to Dr. Serizawa, a happy smile on his face that didn't diminish under the sad, older gentleman's gaze. Before the three of them, arrayed back into the distance, were records of monsters and disasters uncountable. Godzilla's statue stood, glaring down at them. Replicas of the primal saurian's ancient eyes seemed to judge the past, present and future of humanity.

Serizawa motioned to the great chamber where it receded off into the distance, and spoke, "There is a lesson here young one. I hope your generation takes it better than mine."

Sam looked up in wonder at the view, though whether in awe or blissful incomprehension the doctor could not say. Serizawa reached down and opened the display case, taking an old, worn and stopped watch from its loving home. The words written above that watch framed the entire museum in simple but stark prose.

History shows again and again how nature points out the folly of men.

* * *

MUTO Containment Unit Two

Monarch Angat Dam Containment Facility

Clicking and whirring like a whimsically mad clockwork the resident of Containment Two paced around his plain blank cell. Checking on each light bank in turn the MUTO found them as unresponsive as ever to his touch. The cause for why certain spots on the walls of the generally blank round structure were glowing seemed to interest the creature and it poked at them fretfully.

The MUTO put his nose to a bank of lights and clicked a few times, the light in his own eyes flickering back and forth. Unable to get a response from the strange lights the creature turned back to the one break in the monotonous shape of its container.

With a pensive trill the beast looked back and forth, approaching right up next to the door and tapping on it. With that test done it banged on the door, almost as if it was knocking. There was no answer. It clicked again and swung its head down to the small panel inset next to the door. Again, this time with its smaller arms, the MUTO tapped near the keypad.

Nothing happened. No alarm was raised. Glancing back and forth the beast, favored with the name Mooty for its tricks, trilled almost happily and brought a small arm up to the keypad very gingerly.

Top Right, Bottom Right, Left, Left.

* * *

Twenty minutes later,

Haneda Airport, Tokyo, Japan

International terminal, subway station, B2 Floor

Two figures, both lightly packed, dashed through the stark white underground corridors towards a bright yellow sign advertising the ticket gates. They were polite enough to avoid ramming the other pedestrians walking through the subway station, but even at the fast pace of Tokyo life, the two stood out.

"Twenty five minutes till takeoff." Hideki said to Ford, a little too loudly.

"Can't believe we got here that fast." Ford remarked, checking through the ticket gate, "Elevators or escalators?"

"Elevators, I don't want you trampling people up the escalators." Hideki joked, shifting his duffel and fixing his hair.

"Better to crush them in the small box, got it." Ford said, pressing his way into the earliest possible elevator and pulling Hideki with him. No smaller Tokyo natives were harmed in the making of the maneuver, though some were slightly squished.

Bursting out onto the third floor Hideki and Ford took a second to orient themselves to where the departures terminal was. Though it wasn't his first time at the airport Ford still felt a shiver seeing all the wide pane windows, and especially the monorails behind them. It was too much of a reminder of Waikiki.

"To the left here." Hideki remarked, poking at his smartphone's touch pad, "We'll get the light departure treatment thanks to Piccolo."

"Worried about the full body search?" Ford joked.

"It would take waaaay to long." Hideki replied mirthfully as they dashed up to the departures area.

Hideki went up to one of the guards, identified himself and gave the guards something to scan into their system. It to Ford like the pair of them were expected. Glancing up the sailor wondered just how much of the delay had been because of bad weather, both local and on the route, and how much had been from the insistence of Hideki's unit. Given how gray the sky was above, and absolutely black it was to the North, Ford suspected it was more of the former than the latter. At least he still had his passport and papers on him from the trip, that would make things much easier.

Brody barely kept himself from jumping when a helicopter passed right over the terminal, low, close and fast. He didn't know what rocket jockey had pulled a move like that into the airspace over a busy airport, but the guy would be catching hell, balls of steel or not.

Above them and the bustle, coming in through the sheets of rain, the passengers on that helicopter stared intently out the window, determined to get where they were going. Vivienne Graham worked feverishly on getting permissions for the foolish things they were doing, while the pilot was having an angry argument with the control tower. Though they had avoided all the local traffic lanes by coming in low, their insistence on flying over the airport was making every radio exchange an argument to the point it was pressing even the legendary Japanese courtesy.

Dr. Serizawa rubbed his father's watch pensively as he listened to the argument. He could hear both sides of shouted Japanese from the open speakers.

"Helipad? Do we look like your own personal parking lot?"

"I passed a tennis court back there on a roof, you're telling me you have a tennis court and not a helipad?"

"Narita has facilities for that, divert to…"

"We need to catch NH 869, that means we're landing here."

"Further delay on that flight may cause a riot."

"Then you better give us some place to set down, fast."

The co-pilot reached up and switched the radio back to their headsets, not wanting to upset the passengers any further. Graham at least had better news.

"I've gotten us two seats." she said, before sheepishly adding, "In coach."

"Duty is what is important." Serizawa advised her, "Style can handle itself."

They both felt it in the pit of their stomachs when the helicopter began a swift descent. Practically parking between a pair of 747's, a move that would have likely gotten a pilot carrying a lesser passenger shot, their eurocopter settled down in front of the terminal. They were met almost instantly by a trio of greeters, two from security, one some preening bureaucrat, apparently there for nothing more than apologizing profusely.

Serizawa and Graham were led under cover of carried parasol, into the terminal.

With a little assistance from G5 Hideki had managed to get them through security and boarding in less than ten minutes and even got free internet on the aircraft out of it. Ford shook his head as Hideki fixed his hair and gave him a thumbs up the second their rears had hit the seats.

"We should be good from here on out." Hideki said proudly, nodding to himself.

Ford motioned over his shoulder to the window, he had seen a blue and white Monarch helicopter out there, leaving, a moment earlier, "Monarch knows something's up."

"Probably." Hideki said with another nod, "The roar would have hit Hong Kong a while ago, but they won't get triangulation for another forty minutes."

"We can't get off the ground until twelve thirty-five, fifteen minutes more." Ford replied, looking around at the irate passengers on the remarkably full airliner, "A lot can happen in fifteen minutes."

"They can't stop us from leaving." Hideki pointed out, "We've got too much pull from the state department."

"Staying here might be the least of our problems." Ford mumbled cryptically.

With guards pushing past the bustle of people in the terminal Graham and Serizawa were making good time up to their flight. People politely parted before them, and closed behind.

"We're still getting confusing messages from the Philippines." Graham admitted as she strode quickly to keep up with everyone, "It could just be they're not used to communicating anymore."

"We'll see." Serizawa said, helping his assistant along, "When will we reach Manila?"

"Around three forty." Graham added, "It's a four hour flight but Manila is an hour earlier than Tokyo."

Saluting the pair as they moved past the last checkpoint and onto the gantry the security men cleared when they got the pair to the plane. Nodding his thanks Serizawa helped Graham on and they exchanged a few terse pleasantries with the flight crew on the way to their seats.

As they sat in the front right side of coach, they could almost feel the angry stares coming at them from the left rear. Hideki and Ford's look had soured the second the doctor and his assistant had come into sight.

"Tan from Hong Kong is on Taiwan and says he can get us transport when we arrive at Manila if Stevens is unavailable." Graham remarked, pulling out a tablet and showing Serizawa some of the finer points.

"Good." Serizawa replied with a nod, glancing back to the other pair, now hidden past other passengers. It was going to be a long flight.

As the rain finally stopped the airliner carrying the Ford, Graham, Hideki and Serizawa took off and headed for the future.

* * *

11:40 Philippines time,

International meeting place and G-Unit rally point.

On the hillside just south of the Ipo Dam

Mostafa Ochbelagh wiped his forehead and sighed. One more piece of his bomb had been installed, a few hundred left to go. Keeping everything up to date and near tamper proof as he could was a time-consuming job and wearing on him. It would get worse when he introduced the explosive package to the center and very dangerous when he introduced the radioactive material between the heavy isolating layers on the surface of the casing. It might, in the best case scenario, be unnecessary, but he had long learned to leave nothing to chance and never ever base his devices on best case scenarios.

Standing up to stretch his legs Mostafa looked out the picture windows. He could see Zakaria's men here and there, though they didn't seem to be doing anything. Not that he would have known it if they were doing something, but all he had was the looks of it.

The Americans had holed up in the room next to his and were doing military things, mostly equipment checks and maintenance as far as Mostafa could see. He was truly surprised how just how complicated the American's weapons were. They looked to be firing the same bullets as pistols, he could tell them from the longer rifle ones, but in a longer, much more complex weapon.

In the room beside the American military men the CIA had taken up residence. Their communication equipment was something Mostafa understood more of, but it seemed to be rather computer dependant. It wasn't his problem as such, but he hoped they didn't have to do anything with it once the electromagnetic pulses started flying. Mostafa's own bombs were designed to funnel the pulses away from the most sensitive equipment. He'd heard others call that tempest hardening. Still, modern aircraft were supposed to be tempest hardened and the MUTO's had taken them down easily, so his bombs were designed to be able to function on the most simple electronics possible while also being defended. He hoped it was enough.

Downstairs Zakaria and Hawkins leaned over a large laptop computer screen. In front of them was a comprehensive map of the containment facility, from both design plans and echo soundings the entire setup was shown before them.

"We're not set up to be as silent as your units are." Zakaria admitted, pointing to first the access road and then the bunkers, "But we do have local police uniforms, equipment and marked vehicles so we can definitely seal off the operations area from bystanders or unforeseen reinforcement. I'm also sure we can handle things quite well inside the facility after the alarm has been raised and the shutters come down."

"We've already handled keeping the non-essential dam workers from coming tomorrow with the power company." Hawkins remarked, "They're quite happy about it since getting a project like this dumped on something as vital as Angat Dam never sat right with them anyway. There are teams cleared for that level of security at ready to take over the power plant at our call."

"So it's just down to making the facility under the plant uninhabitable without polluting the plant or the water supply." Zakaria said, diagnosing the situation they'd be working under, then he pointed at a few spots on the map, "We'll have to reduce the air pressure and close off these interlocks. I wouldn't want to be trying to breathe down there without them, but I'm certain anyone that tries to hold in there will be more worried about radiation than anything."

"Or being riddled with bullets." Hawkins pointed out, "Everyone working that facility is a potential target."

Zakaria stood up and held a hand to his ear. While the move wasn't necessary it did signify him listening on the Qod's communication. His own, somewhat hidden, earpiece wasn't as high espionage as Hawkins' implant but had similar functionality. Both had taken to putting a hand to their ear to make it clear they were talking to or listening to someone on radio.

"Visitor from the Dam." Zakaria pointed out, "Qod are letting him through. I know this one."

"Hmm?" Hawkins said, looking up. Out the front storm door a figure popped up, looking nervous and eying the Qod that had taken up inconspicuous defensive positions around the house and environs. With a quick motion Edward Koenig let himself in. It took him less than a second, and a quick look of horror, to see Zakaria standing there and draw a pistol on him.

"Problems?" Hawkins asked, looking the security chief up and down. The man looked positively spooked.

Seeing Hawkins there, and the fact Zakaria, while smiling, was neither acting as if he noticed nor trying to kill him, confused Koenig enough for him to take his gun off the Iranian. The Englishman shook his head and grumbled something before putting his pistol away.

"You could have told me." Koenig growled, pointing at Zakaria, "Do you know who this is? What is he doing here? And is that Qod out there for the love of God? Where are your men."

"Let's see." Hawkins said, looking up and counting the questions asked him before responding, "No time. Yes I know who he is. He's the one with the bomb to handle your problem. What else would it be but Qod, love of God or not, and getting ready to hit the target. I think that's all of them."

"Quite." Zakaria confirmed.

"Crap." Koneig cursed, then hurried over to a pot of coffee at the side of the room and poured himself an un-Englishman-ly sized cup, "When I called you lot in for this bloody mess I had the expectation I would be kept in the loop."

"Things are happening too quickly to keep everyone up to speed." Hawkins pointed out, working on the computer, "It would help if you'd allow us to contact you some way other than verbally."

"I can't risk Stevens getting wind of me acting against him." Koneig replied, leaning back against a table and taking a chug of his potent beverage, "The man is mad. If we prove his paranoia right he may do anything."

Hawkins nodded and looked down, "It'll be out of his hands by this time tomorrow, mid-afternoon at worst."

"And what is your story?" Koenig asked Zakaria, "Why does Soleimani think we'll need a sniper of all things?"

"I can keep a bad situation together and I was available." Zakaria responded, still beaming his broad smile at Koenig and looking to love every minute of the Englishman being unable to do anything against him.

"As good as it is of Soleimani recognizing your qualifications, I wouldn't be too happy about it." Koenig said, looking at Zakaria, then motioned up towards the North " With that up there, your good reputation might have just gotten you killed."


	10. Arrivals

Monarch Containment Facility, Angat Dam

Operations Room, just below Bunker #1

The view on the flat screen monitor switched over and over. The main hall showed, then another spot twenty meters further on. The machine room appeared in view after view then the lunchroom, out in front of each containment facility. What he was looking for never showed.

A small vein started to pulse on Michael Stevens' head as he found containment unit two open again and its occupant roaming the halls. He wanted to yell at some perfunctory but there was no time. He switched the screen at his desk back to eight views at once with a click of his mouse. Inside, outside, he was nowhere.

Stevens growled, then looked over to the room guard, "Restituto!" he called, and the man snapped to attention, "When was the last time you saw Koenig and what was he doing?"

"Around ten sir, in the main hall." Restituto replied, nodding, "He was looking for Hawkins. Should I send Paras to fetch him?"

Stevens leaned back in his chair and sighed, holding a hand over his eyes, "If he's actually looking for Hawkins I doubt either are on base anymore. Don't bother sending Paras out." then another thought hit him and he glanced at the screens, "I'd like him to do a check on what personnel are at stations though. We seem to be down some."

"Right away sir." Restituto replied and started talking quietly into a transmitter on his lapel.

Stevens nodded, figuring he'd handled the situation as best as possible. Things were simply bothering him too much, though, for him to just sit back and wait. The idea of trusting anyone else to oversee his all important work, to make sure everything was going right, was as ludicrous in his mind as it had ever been. Some things just took a personal touch.

"Get me a driver while you're at it Restituto." Stevens commanded, getting up from his desk, "I'm going out after a walk around."

The Filipino mercenary nodded to his boss and relayed the command. Stevens strode across his operations room and headed out the door to the underground. It took him only a few moments to check on certain places, under the overhang in the machine room, outside the lunchroom, around the corners in the main hallway, to confirm his suspicious. None of the Americans assigned to his project were in-house. It wasn't much of a surprise. He had highly doubted they would stick around when there was a risk of exposure to the project, and it was very possible he could get them to come crawling back after the fuss died down.

Heading out to the car he'd ordered Stevens got the return response from Restituto on his smartphone. No Americans in-house, not unexpected. Koenig missing, a little more worrisome but the man had always hated Hawkins and probably had gone to drag him back from wherever. Dr. Ishiro Serizawa requesting a meeting at the original facility? That would mean Serizawa himself was coming to town. Stevens frowned greatly on that one. Depending on the results of his trip and where the doddering fool ended up he might just have to handle that one personally.

"Destination sir?" Stevens driver asked, saluting. Stevens smiled, seeing his limousine was in sparkling condition. Someone at least was acting up to standards today.

"Quezon City, the underpass." the commander ordered, sliding himself into the limo's padded seats. He didn't bother to see the driver nod and get into the car, that much needed no checking on.

* * *

11:00 am local time, Noon Philippines time

In the Java sea,

80 miles North of Jakarta, Indonesia

There was tranquility in the peaceful noontime waters just South of the equator. The sun shone down brightly upon beautiful blue waters. A tramp freighter ship was off on the horizon, probably on the sea lanes going too and from nearby Jakarta, but nothing else was visible, only row after row of jutting spines.

Having pulled away from its assigned escort miles before Godzilla kept to a lazy thirty-five knots, in no hurry to get back to its home trenches, but not wanting to be followed by the hives of the little builders that stayed near it like remora to the much smaller sharks plying the ocean under the waves.

The territory it most protected, the place that the most trouble could arise from was ahead. To a creature millions of years traveling thousands of miles in trips that could take weeks were little more in comparison to human reasoning than a stop to the corner store.

There was the tiniest of ripples upon the surface of the water. Unnoticeable to most life forms an infrasonic pulse, the communication form of another great beast, had passed through the area.

Two great eyes the size of houses rose from the waves. The great brows above them furrowed and a flash of anticipatory anger raced across facial features larger than the average office building. Teeth exposed in a snarl the head crashed back into the waves.

One by one, then in three by threes, the great spines creasing the ocean's surface began to dip under water. A hundred sixty-eight meters worth of tail began to sway through the water with more purposeful propulsion.

More than a thousand miles away in a solitary tractor-trailer, one giant screen showed those great spines sinking into the ocean's depths. With the clack of computer keys a giant timer, set above all the screens, set itself to thirty-one hours. One second later, thirty hours, fifty-nine minutes, fifty-nine seconds… fifty-eight… seven… the countdown had begun.

Godzilla was coming.

* * *

Twenty minutes later,

Airliner NH 869

Over the Pacific Ocean

The sounds coming over his assistant's phone were in as few words as possible, a mess. Having connected by internet to the Monarch Janjira Ready Room, Dr. Serizawa had hoped there would be good news. Unfortunately it sounded as if the people there were having a fit of piqué.

"Both Janjira and Jakarta have registered the sound at the same time?" Vivienne spoke into the phone, trying to get some sort of confirmation, "No other locations have it but Hong Kong, Janjira and Jakarta? Singapore reports it too on a separate channel, but not New Delhi?"

"They're confirming North and South, but not middle?" Serizawa said, confused, "Wouldn't the sound have reached Manila on a straight line long before it hit those locations?"

"I can't explain it beyond the equipment in Manila is malfunctioning sir." Graham said, looking embarrassed as she bowed her head, "They are denying all knowledge of it."

Serizawa glanced warily back towards Hideki and Ford. He couldn't see them where he sat, but it was certain they knew something. If only he could get over there and talk to them. He needed to compare notes but the two seemed stubbornly silent on the whole thing.

"Really? Is that confirmed?" Graham said, almost breathlessly, "I'll tell him."

"More news?" Serizawa couldn't wait.

"The Americans say they picked up the sound first, from their seismographs on Guam. It took them time to get their information collated and contact every facility. They say the pulse was centered just northeast of Manila." Vivienne confirmed, "The Saratoga is on its way to the area, but for some reason there is some sort of diplomatic mess preventing them from coordinating with the local military. No one understands it."

Serizawa looked to his assistant, then away from her, mulling the situation over. Things went together only in one logical explanation. The Monarch head stifled his desire to begin cursing out loud.

* * *

Hours later,

14°38'46.7"N Latitude, 121°02'27.4"E Longitude

Off to the North side of the Quezon Avenue Underpass.

A large black limo pulled off to the side of the road, getting a few honks of derision from other motorists as it temporarily blocked traffic before seeming to disappear into the shadows. Just by looking at it in passing, as thousands of people did every day, one would probably never have noticed the side spur it entered, hidden by the shadows of a pedestrian bridge. The walls of the concrete, tunnel like, nearly mile long, underpass seemed completely flush and mostly featureless, and without pedestrian traffic in the tunnel it was likely no one had ever been close enough to notice.

Pulling up the stealth driveway Stevens' limo parked before a pair of heavy concrete and steel doors, like those of his containment facility. It was a dark place, but apparently either cleaned impeccably or in a location that not even random junk from the city ever filtered into. The end of the drive even had its own cul-de-sac made large enough for a limousine or semi-truck to fit in.

As banks of florescent lights fitted into the walls turned themselves on Stevens stepped imperiously from his vehicle. He neither spoke to his driver, nor paid anything else of the place any heed before he strode up to the main gates. The entire place seemed oddly empty as he walked up to the massive main gate and waited without saying a word. Whatever control the odd location had noticed the project lead very quickly and the main doors pulled themselves to the side, out of his path, much more quickly than the ones at his main facility.

None of it seemed to matter to Stevens. The easy stride he held, the way his head was tipped slightly back, and his utter confidence walking through the empty, yet mahogany wood-paneled, halls spoke that this was his personal space, his manse, his domain.

Past vast doors with radiation warning symbols larger than he was Stevens strode. Past empty laboratories straight out of a mad scientist's dream he walked, unconcerned. Past specimen jars of embryonic creatures that just screamed wrongness… Past the remains of human experiments all dead, but many apparently done on adults and children… Past tissues almost as uncountable as the money wasted on luxury furnishing no one but he would ever use… Past this and more Stevens strode with ever-increasing pride until he reached the back room of the place. The nave of a temple built to everything sociopathic in human pride. The high altar of arrogance, hidden behind doors of lead and concrete.

Stevens opened those doors wide and basked in the radiant golden glow coming from beyond.

* * *

3:35 pm, Philippine local time.

Airliner NH 869

On final approach to Ninoy Aquino International Airport, Metro Manila

Dr. Ishiro Serizawa had been completely quiet for hours. Staring at the seat in front of him while rubbing his father's watch even his assistant had been able to get nothing from him. The ramifications of what was happening in his world, in his own organization, were just too dire.

The doctor only finally looked up as their airliner's wheels touched the pavement of the Manila International airport. He glanced to his assistant, then back down to his watch, knowing how long a day it had been, and how much longer it was going to be. There was no helping it.

On the other side of the aircraft and slightly back Ford Brody and Hideki Aino were hastily setting themselves up to grab their belongings and be off as quickly as possible. Neither wanted anything to do with Serizawa, nor any of his questions, before they were on their way.

As the plane taxied down the companionway Ford nudged Hideki and pointed to the window remarking, "It looks like Serizawa has his transportation set up."

Sure enough, there, atop the terminal they were approaching, sat a Eurocopter Dauphin in Monarch's blue and white color scheme.

"We'll have a car waiting." Hideki said with a smirk, noticing the shining Monarch transport, "I'll drive, I know the way."

"Heh, we don't even rate a driver?" Ford said with a bit of a chuckle.

"I'm not good enough?" Hideki sounded hurt. Ford just shook his head.

Over on the other side, as the plane turned about and entered the terminal area, Serizawa and Graham got their first look at the helicopter.

Serizawa raised his eyebrows and nodded, "How good of Tam to park it on the terminal for us."

"He's always been efficient." Graham replied, looking to her smartphone, "He had to refuel it a few times to get it here from Taiwan."

"So still no response from Stevens on the trouble in his backyard." Serizawa queried.

"None whatsoever."

Serizawa dipped his head in shame, responding, "Why am I not surprised."

Once they got into the terminal it didn't take long for Serizawa and Graham to be escorted up to their waiting Dauphin. The helipad being right on the top-middle of the terminal itself hurt matters none and their helper Tam's apparent and ready efficiency had every one of the airport staff racing to keep up.

Tam himself was a short man, of standard southern Chinese complexion and a thin build apparently kept that way by his complete inability to avoid expending every possible calorie he had on endless activity. He almost ran three rings around Serizawa on their way to the helicopter. His black hair, hidden under a white baseball cap, and his white overalls made a strange, off-color, blur, in his constant motion.

"I checked the traffic logs in person." Tam shouted to his passengers over the sound of the Dauphin's blades spinning up to speed as they approached it, "Not a thing from Manila in three years."

Vivienne ducked and climbed into the Dauphin's side door with Serizawa and Tam helping her then checked her smartphone, adding, "That's unusual, the grants and funneling into this branch establishment has increased sevenfold over the past five years, yet we've been hearing nothing from them on their progress."

"I have found signs that they are also taking in money from other sources." Tam said as Serizawa joined them on the helicopter, "We heard nothing from their office in Valenzuela City on the way here."

"You're headed there." Serizawa said, in rather blasé way that suggested neither a command nor question.

"As we speak." Tam replied, motioning to the pilot for them to take off.

Serizawa looked out the window and tried to familiarize himself with the lay of the city around him. It had changed since he had last been in the area more than a decade before. There were far more high-rise towers and modern infrastructure. Even the airport seemed much bigger, with bright and shining new terminals surrounded by art-deco churches and avant-guard structural art.

Somewhere down there Ford Brody and Hideki Aino would be disappearing into the bustle of the city, heading wherever they were going. He suspected they would make progress long before he did. At least there were some newer highways and more under construction since last the doctor had been in town.

The helicopter started over low buildings Serizawa somewhat recognized, most of the city having been low to the ground as of his last trip, and quite an inordinate number of shopping malls. Soon however they were skirting strips of skyscrapers jutting up from pastures of low-lying structures. Serizawa found he recognized the government buildings, and the poor, blighted, Pasig river as he passed over them, but everywhere he saw there were far more high-rise buildings, mostly in narrow strips miles long.

He could tell they were getting closer to site when they began passing over mile upon mile upon mile of warehouses and cemeteries. It had always bothered him their Manila headquarters was so close to a practical city of the dead. They passed first over one giant cemetery, one with a mostly Chinese feel to it, then miles on they flew past another, more general cemetery. A little further on the Tullahan river came into view and beyond it would be…

Serizawa stopped in mid thought and tilted his head in confusion. Monarch's Manila branch had always been right past a bend in the river and just behind a massive pair of warehouses. The place wasn't exactly prime real estate, but buying cheap and innocuous had been a hallmark of Monarch's early days, hidden as a shipping company. The thing was, where the headquarters had been at the turn of the century, now sixteen years later, was just an empty lot.

"If that is the headquarters of anything I will eat my hat." Tam pointed out, not mincing words.

"Put us down." Serizawa ordered, looking all the more concerned.

"Not like we will land on anything." Tam said with a shrug as Vivienne looked on in shock.

The helicopter landed in the middle of a field of empty dirt, blowing up a cloud of dust and debris as it set down. As soon as the helicopter powered down and the obstruction cleared Serizawa and Graham were out of it, scouring the lot as best they could. Tam never even bothered getting out.

"This is where we're supposed to be sending all that money." Vivienne pointed out, looking at her smartphone in mixed awe and disbelief, "14 degrees, 41 minutes, 4.7 seconds North by 121 degrees, no minutes, 34.3 seconds East. We are exactly where we should be."

"But our men are not." Serizawa noted, shaking his head.

"Is there something you should be telling me sir?" Graham asked, broaching a question that had been brewing in her head for hours, "You seem to have this figured out far more than I do, and you've been angry about it for a while."

Serizawa looked at Vivienne, accepting that she had finally taken enough of his silence on this particular issue, something that rarely ever happened, and sighed before giving her a sad response, "During the battle in San Francisco, I had opportunity to talk with Admiral Stenz and explain to him my thoughts on the arrogance of man. This is yet another part of that, one that was foreseen by our strategists in the wake of the disaster."

"And what part would that be?" Graham said, pulling at her superior to get to the bottom of things.

"It was predicted, that man, in his arrogance, would believe that we could control even the very heavens under the sway of a charismatic enough leader. That people of power could be convinced not to fear the MUTO, but that we could control the MUTO."

"That's insane!" Vivienne almost shouted, a slight break in her well maintained composure.

"For those of us that know what they are capable of, yes." Serizawa said, holding his arms behind his back and looking up to the sky, "But now as ever the arrogance of man is believing nature is under our control, not the other way around. It is now my lasting shame that the next outbreak of these creatures will likely come from within my own organization."

"But no one can possibly think they can control those things." Vivienne said in disbelief, "They must have seen the films, the footage. They can't possibly…"

Serizawa held up a hand, stopping his assistant in mid rant, and shook his head slowly, then added, "Human beings tend to believe what is most convenient for their own ego on these matters. Anyone who has never fought a monster, faced one himself, in absence of other evidence and with a charismatic enough person leading them astray would find it naturally easy to believe that the greatness of humanity and our apparent absolute control over their pampered, wealthy, environment extends even to things that we have no ability or right to control."

"So someone in charge, just because they've never felt any form of powerlessness, just decides to ignore all the evidence to the contrary and risk the lives of an entire country?" Vivienne said, expression horrified, "Even under the best of circumstances biological weapons are nearly uncontrollable."

"Give someone enough power over his fellow man and he tends to forget that it doesn't extend to the world they live in." Serizawa offered sagely, "Get in contact with Stenz, and try to get hold of someone in the Manila office, wherever it is. This will not end well."

"Already been doing it." Tam shouted from the helicopter, "Japanese people take forever to do things! Must anticipate before you make up your minds! Stenz has been on his way with the entire carrier group, but big boats take forever to get anywhere. Local office answers the phone just to put people on hold, at least they have a catchy hold tune."

Vivienne and Ishiro looked at each other, then back to Tam, then to each other again, and shrugged. Serizawa walked over to the helicopter and looked at Tam's smartphone. They were, as the Chinese man had put it, on hold.

There was a blare of static from the phone then a voice came over it, "Director Serizawa, is director Serizawa there?" a woman asked.

"He is here, you want him?" Tam replied with another question before Serizawa could confirm anything. He quickly switched over to speaker phone. There was a bit more static on the line as the woman patched them through to someone else.

"Well well." a deep masculine voice emerged from the smartphone, sporting an English accent, "Are you through playing in the dirt yet director? I would not want to stop you seeing as that seems to be one of your favorite ways to pass the time. Still, I hear you're looking for a meeting and I'm sure if it is needed I can pencil you in this afternoon."

Serizawa and Tam looked at each other. Without a word the doctor looked back to his assistant and pointed at the phone, checking that who was talking to him was indeed who he thought it was. Graham nodded confirming they were being contacted by the local field lead, Michael Stevens.

"I suppose you aren't the talking type so I'll just do the talking for you." Stevens continued, not waiting for anyone to respond, "The silence of the last decade speaks to that even if you won't. I'll be at Quezon City Hall for a little bit more, just finishing some errands I had to run. If you want to meet me there I'd be happy to oblige."

The phone went to silence on Stevens last words. He'd hung up without even a goodbye.

Tam's eyebrows raised beyond the rim of his hat, "Wow." he said, not mincing words as usual, "That is one big asshole."

"He's also my responsibility." Serizawa said, already having gotten in and helping Graham behind him, "Can we get there quickly?"

"Not a problem." Tam said, giving his usual circular signal to the pilot and telling him to get things moving, "That's only about three miles. We should be there before he gets done congratulating himself on being an ass."

Whether or not Tam's words were true it turned out to be a very quick flight over to the Quezon City Hall. The Dauphin circled the area once, looking for a place to pout down and giving Serizawa a good lay of the land. City hall itself was a group of buildings surrounded on three sides by lagoons, parks and a colonnaded courtyard extending out to the main street. On the last side the complex sat up against a rather posh hotel and a very tall building the helicopter had to make effort to get around which looked more like a skyscraper's shell more than a proper high-rise.

"It is pretty dense in there." Tam pointed out, looking for a place to put down, "Pretty sure they won't like us just dropping in."

"I'll clear it later." Serizawa said, motioning towards a tree-lined lot across the street from the complex, "We can't miss Stevens. Just get the police to clear over there."

It took only a few minutes, and some frantic scrambling by the local police, to get the lot cleared and Serizawa on the ground. He nodded his thanks to the officers and gave them a wave while he and Graham crossed the field and street between themselves and City Hall.

"They're not following us, or escorting us at all." Graham pointed out, looking back at the officers.

"They know what they're doing." Serizawa said, "And who they're taking orders from."

The pair walked through a parking lot and past what seemed to be a half-dozen monuments to this or that person they'd never heard of before getting in under the raised paths that surrounded the complex's main courtyard. They found Stevens, sitting at the base of yet another monument to someone of local importance, chatting with a number of depressingly well armed soldiers. Serizawa winced when he saw them, remembering how he'd felt seeing very similar soldiers outside a particular mine far to the South of here on his last trip more than a decade ago. At least none of the five heavily armed men were wearing masks this time, as if seeing the face of the men who might shoot him could have made the doctor feel better.

"Ah, Doctor Serizawa." Stevens said, standing up and waving to the oncoming pair, "It's been a long time."

"Mister Stevens." Serizawa said, warily, eying the armed men that were arrayed around the courtyard.

"Oh, do you think it's wise to speak, _sir_." Stevens said, emphasizing a specific word, "It must be so hard being the mime in charge. You wouldn't want to break your record now."

Serizawa nearly snarled at the smirking American and stormed forward, "I will talk when I am wont to Mister Stevens. Especially since it seems that there has been far too much going on here behind my back."

"Oh? And who put it behind your back Director?" Stevens asked, pressing forward himself and stopping Serizawa with the magnitude of his menacing aura, "I certainly didn't. You've been pretty damn willfully ignoring us out here, so obsessed were you with your little bug at Janjira. A whole damn army of MUTO could have marched through this place so thoroughly was your nose ensconced in the radioactive pit you now call home. Oh but I suppose we were better off that way. Or have you asked Greg Whelan or his tech lead, Jainway I think, about their opinion on the matter? Oh waiiiit, you can't, _because you got them killed_."

Vivienne Graham gaped in shock as the taller American leaned down into the face of her sensei. He was berating the man she admired at all but point-blank range. Her anger welling up on the issue was only held in check by the small signal Serizawa had given her to keep quiet. No matter what she had expected, this type of antagonistic, preemptive retaliation wasn't it. Things were going downhill fast. Stevens had started with condescension and dropped to low blows almost immediately. This wasn't a conversation, it was a beating.

Serizawa looked up into Stevens' eyes and saw within them almost nothing of what he expected in a human. The man he had known many years ago, when he had approved his assignment to this country, was gone, if he ever really existed. Serizawa would have put money on the fact that power had brought out the true Michael Stevens, a being without a hint of the respect, affability and general humanity he'd pretended to in the beginning. There was no talking to this man. The course of insanity within him had been set long before, only the level of self-aggrandizement had grown to the point that he likely thought the MUTO themselves were within his control.

Serizawa simply turned around and started walking away. He took Vivienne by the arm and brought her with him.

"Quitting the field so soon Director?" Stevens said, tilting his head back proudly to look down his nose at the retreating man.

"I have not the horns of Jericho Mister Stevens. I can not break down a wall of rock in my path simply by talking to it or shouting at it." Serizawa replied without turning or slowing, "Sometimes to break past obstacles a man in my position requires… bigger guns."

Stevens crossed his arms and let out a harrumph as the doctor left him behind. He faded into the distance without other remark, so busy was he giving orders to his soldiers.

Serizawa shook his head and looked to Graham. He remembered from their flight how many massive television and radio antennae were positioned close to the City Hall. The place was perfect for a group he knew to bounce signals off of without attracting any attention.

"Vivienne." he said, the use of his aide's first name stressing the importance of his words, "Contact Admiral Stenz, we'll need him. Also ask him to do a satellite image scan of the area. I need him to find… what did Hideki call it? A really big truck."


	11. It Never Rains

4:50 pm, Philippine local time

The crossroads in front of a certain two-story estate.

On the hillside just south of the Ipo Dam

The sound of tires over old asphalt had become a constant companion. Rumbling down the road a black and red 4x4 pickup picked its way past another switchback and began its way down a row of blue roofed houses. Not far down the hill a large cement dam held back a winding lake of sparkling blue water.

Ford, sunglasses firmly over his eyes, had one arm leaning in the open side window and his eyes scanning the surroundings. Hideki, his hair horribly disheveled since both hands were on the wheel, held the truck on course. The two were on the tail end of more than an hour of driving to get from South of Manila to Bulacan, the widely spread municipality that contained their destination.

"Antisocial personality disorder." Hideki said, checking off things in his head, "With narcissistic and paranoid tendencies. He can be perfectly nice to any person over the long-term as long as he wants something from you. Once he gets it, you might as well not be breathing, so much as you're wasting his air."

"Sounds like a real winner." Ford replied, face dispassionate. In the last parts of their trip the conversation had turned to the personalities behind their current predicament, "I suppose he used the nice part to get hold of his own facility and personal army."

"Yeah, Mickey Colorado can be like that." Hideki agreed, slowing before the final turn.

Ford, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, casually picked out a number of people near them. While the men looked like they could be locals resting or talking to each other, Ford, from his experience at war, could tell they were positioned to cover and defend a large, blue roofed, two-story, halfway down the street.

"You might want to drive past." Ford suggested, looking as disinterested as the men he watched, "I've seen men like that in Afghanistan. They aren't local and usually mean trouble out there."

"You think there's trouble out here?" Hideki said with a laugh and pulled over in front of the house, "You ain't met my guys yet."

Ford looked unconvinced for a moment before Hideki, getting out of the truck, gave a little wave. For a split second Ford could half pick up movement at the edges of his perception. From atop the two-story a young woman, dressed in all black yet in a perfect shadow to hide on a blue roof, waved back from her seat and tipped a canned drink to Hideki. Two others, also clad in black motioned a greeting from the forest nearby. If they hadn't moved Ford would have never noticed them, and he wondered if the middle easterners had yet. There was no way to really tell. Just from what he could see both sides were consummate professionals, though probably specialized in different types of warfare.

"You're probably not going to like everybody here." Hideki cautioned, calling Ford in with a wave.

"That's nothing new. I'm used to wars where the good guys and bad guys look alike." Ford pointed out. He hefted his duffel and nodded to whom he saw to be in charge of the guards.

"Yeah, it's a bit more mixed up here. Friends are enemies and vice versa. These ones are Qod." Hideki said as Ford started around the truck. Brody almost tripped and one of the Qod gave Hideki a little 'oh thanks' look.

"Iranians?" the sailor asked, an eyebrow raised behind his sunglasses as he picked up the pace a little.

"Hey, everybody has a stake in this one." Hideki added, grabbing his own bag, "Hear one of Stevens' sales pitches involved siccing the MUTO on Iran."

"Biologics." Brody said sadly, shaking his head, "That's insane."

"Don't have to tell me." Hideki replied, extending a hand to open the door, "Oh on that note, watch out for Hawkins and don't take what he's probably going to say to you personally. The higher-ups want you on his team, and they don't understand there are some specifics you'd need that you don't have. You're in for a shake down sooner or later, it's his duty."

"Got it." Ford said, though if he actually understood or not would have to wait for later. The sailor took a look around outside the building, memorizing the outdoor layout, before turning to follow Hideki though the door. As he removed his sunglasses he found three men, a tall bald Iranian with a killer smile, a somewhat slouched European who's clothing seemed be picked to sag as much as he did, and a young blond man as American as apple pie, standing around a tactical operation readout. The European nodded to him. The American seemed too engrossed to look up, but the Iranian gave Ford a blatant once over as he entered.

"This is your man from Kabul?" the Iranian asked.

"He's from San Francisco, he only worked in Kabul." the American pointed out, finally looking up, but addressing Hideki instead of Ford, "You want us to get you an out Three? I know you don't stick close to combat."

"I'll be fine Hawkins." Hideki replied, "I'm sure Five has room in his truck."

"Brave man." Hawkins chuckled, then tilted his head, holding a hand over his ear, "No, I mean it… You damn well know why I said that."

"Wrong ear." Zakaria pointed out before turning back to Hawkins, "This man seems young, are you sure he has the qualifications to push our schedule up."

"He'll do fine on the technicals. He'll have us up pretty quick." Hawkins said, taking his hand off the wrong ear. Ford noticed this group seemed inclined to talk about people in third person before Hawkins turned to him, gave him a quick salute then started in, "Sir, equip and device are up on the second floor, middle room. You'll have to crash in, but it's a familiar make. Getting used to working with the maker might be more of a problem. He's a nice guy but if that's not enough just put how important your job is in front of your feelings on the issue."

Ford was taken aback for a second, not expecting Hawkins to lay that much information on him before even saying hello or exchanging identification. The man was abrupt, but at least he was efficient. He'd laid out the final details of what was expected of Ford and potential problems in little more than a few seconds. No pep talks, no beating around the bush, just the business of saving lives. Why Hideki had insisted on doing all the driving himself had become obvious. Ford was expected to be rested, at peak, and in it only seconds after arrival.

"On it Chief." Ford replied with a nod, simply letting his military mindset take over as had brought him through worse situations countless times. He turned to Hideki before heading in the direction Hawkins had motioned when he'd told Ford where he was needed and added, "Thanks for the lift man. I've got a date with a bomb."

"Nothing new eh?" Hideki said as Ford headed upstairs.

Sailor, explosive ordnance disposal expert and young father, Ford Brody took the stairs two at a time. Ever since his father died, heck, even before that, the direction of his life seemed to be firmly fixed to whatever he did with the explosives in his midst. He resolved to get through this crisis as all the previous.

From what he found in the top floor middle room, Ford at the very least had to admit to himself he was impressed. He hadn't been present at the building of a complex WMD before, but his skill at understanding and disarming devices gave him a good idea of what the thin, haggard looking, Iranian man in the middle of the room was working on. Just from the parts around, those installed and yet to be installed he could tell the defenses of the bomb and style of the bomb maker, along with the intended functions of the device.

It was a "dirty" bomb. A radiation spreading device designed to make a specifically predetermined area unlivable for the foreseeable future. The idea of such a thing was nothing new, but just how specific this design was spoke to both the skill of the artist and how good his recognizance of the target was.

Ford knelt beside the device, careful to not touch any of the uninstalled parts and looked at it from a few different directions before giving his opinion, "You know the area you have to cover, and the density you need to cover it with. You're using the venturi effect to increase the spread by allowing the explosives in the middle to force the radioactive material through narrow break out vents on the surface of the casing, but you've added an anti tamper feature that will make the entire case explode along these lines of fracture like a giant fragmentation grenade if the device isn't disarmed in the right way."

The Iranian, though looking tired, and as he noticed before a little haggard, had brightened up considerably with Ford's analysis. Eyebrows raised the man reached out and shook Ford's hand.

"Good, Good!" the man said then nodded and, unlike those downstairs, politely introduced himself, "Mostafa Ochbelagh. I am pleased to meet you. You are the man Hawkins said could help me put this together quicker? I didn't catch your name from the others."

"Ford Brody, Lieutenant, US Navy." the sailor said, looking into the case, "Won't sticking to the old use of this design reduce the spread of contaminant? I'm assuming we have to irradiate a specific area for best effect."

"True, true. The secondary effect probably won't be noticed or set off by anyone without expertise in bomb disposal. Does that mean you've seen this type before though?" Mostafa asked, stopping his short explanation, "I'm hoping that means you bravely protected some vital military position or personnel from a work like this?"

"No." Ford said with a sigh, bringing a confused look from the Iranian, "It was a school in Kabul. One that dared to educate girls and women."

To Ford's surprise Mostafa took the news like a punch in the gut. The man's shoulders sank. His hopeful look dispelled, winding down to an almost defeated air. The Iranian stood and walked over to a counter near the far door, the only place not repurposed to bomb making in the room, and started working on making a decent cup of tea.

Looking over at Ford, Mostafa motioned towards the device, "Before you bother asking, yes that is my design. I'm the only one that makes it, so the one you disarmed was mine as well."

Ford leaned his head forward a bit and looked at the floor. His emotion at the moment was very different from what he would have expected upon finding the maker of the bomb that had come closest to finishing his career and his life. If there had been some evil, fatwah spouting, jihadist on the other end of that bomb he at least would have been less conflicted, maybe less confused. Something about the man reminded him of someone he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I put revenge ahead of my faith, anger ahead of my sense." the Iranian seemed lost in his own remorse as he rubbed his glasses over the bridge of his nose, "I would rather not become to close Lieutenant. The last time I worked with the military, even though it was my military, I apparently allowed myself to become the same type of man who killed my family. How long would it have been before someone began blowing up Persians to get back at me."

"You sound like you have a lot of history behind you sir." Ford said, hoping the words would make the man decide to either get that history off his chest or pen it back up. Whichever way helped get their job done it would serve.

Mostafa smiled at the invitation and walked back to the device, sitting next to it and Ford. The bomb maker was apparently too nice, or too in need of getting his problems off his chest to listen to his own advice. He picked up a part, one that allowed for the shifting of pressure across a wider area than normal, and looked at it.

"A memento of my past, back when I was just one of many designers trying to get the great Iranian dream of nuclear power off the ground." he said, though allowing just enough undertone to infer he knew that dream was a bit more than he was letting on, "Nicer days, but they made me a target and I was too naïve to know or care."

Ford nodded. He both listened and determined what work needed to be done at the same time. A few parts had to be fabricated from the available parts for the device, and apparently a few mental pieces had to be put back in place within the maker.

"There is are a few CIA fellows over in the next room." Mostafa pointed out, watching Ford and getting a feel for his level of skill, "One of them is very good, almost good enough to hide the expression he makes when he's looking at me. That expression a person makes when he sees an important job left undone. I can only fault him for missing so badly. I would rather it have been myself than my family."

Ford glanced over at his new working partner. The sailor was amazed the man had the mental fortitude to do a job, with a person he suspected of… The very thought shook Ford and made him think of Sam and Elle. He had to wonder though, was it duty or despair that was staying Mostafa's hand. The man did have enough explosives to bring the house down a few times over up here.

"I switched jobs, high on revenge and countering the American and Zionist evils. The naiveté even lasted a little while." Mostafa said almost wistfully, "I started out given specific targets tailored to what I asked. Military objectives. Helping to promote Islam. Hero of the Revolution. No one ever mentioned what a mockery of faith it is to think one can promote Islam with a bomb. No, you never cite the actual Noble Quran to a person who's making things that blow up your enemies for you. It's just not done."

Ford smiled at Mostafa and shook his head. He'd avoided his own crisis of faith for the most part, just because it hadn't really been brought up in his family. Right and wrong were just that, right and wrong.

"And the reports slowly dwindle down, and the hatred starts to turn to grief. They even stop telling you what it is you're making the bombs for." Mostafa said sadly, "Until one day you find you've made a bomb that they tried to use on a school. Almost destroyed how many other families. Almost made how many more of yourself?"

Mostafa smiled as he looked down at Ford, realizing how quickly he grasped the features of the bomb and that those skills came from a life of taking them apart and saving lives, not putting them together to take them. He nodded, mostly to himself.

"To tell you the truth I don't think I'm going to survive this." Mostafa pointed out, catching Ford by surprise, "But this time I'm going to make sure I save every life I possibly can."

"That seems noble enough sir." Ford replied. The Persian chuckled at the non-committal answer.

"Good good." Mostafa said with a smirk, "But don't think I haven't realized."

"Sir?" Brody said questioningly with a tip of his head.

"You must be very hungry!" the bomb maker said with a smile, waggling a finger in Ford's general direction, "Japan is an hour later than here, you've lost an hour! Come on, let's get some food. They have odd rice here but their Nan-e Shirmal is almost edible! Come, come."

The sailor smiled, shaking his head and chuckling. He had a really mixed up character in this one. As his stomach rumbled he adjusted his assessment to add that the man was smart though.

With all the people in the house, jostling around for floor space, whether it was for military equipment cases, com sets, or computers, it took Ford and Mustafa more than a quarter of an hour to get through and make something to eat. Soon after that they were sitting in the middle of the construction room, plowing through the breads, meats and rice they had gathered.

Mostafa was finishing the latest of the pair's traded stories, "…and he said why don't we just use a mercury switch!" It managed to get both of them laughing. Ford tried to make heads or tails of Mostafa's sweet Nan-e Shirmal as he pushed some rice around his plate.

"I can imagine someone saying that." Ford said, smiling, "Ordinary people seem to think they're the answer to everything."

"Yes yes, that's the way it goes." the bomb maker said, nodding, then noticed Ford playing around with his bread, "The nan here does taste a little odd, but you can get used to it."

Ford looked the loaf over and replied, "It's just not what I was expecting having had naan in Afghanistan."

"Ah, that's it. They use their naan almost like silverware over there don't they? The word just means bread really, theirs is flat, that one of ours is more of a breakfast or tea bread, because of the sweetness." Mostafa explained, "If you want to get really confused, go to India. The things they call nan over there."

"Hah hah! Watch it! Almost got you!"

"I can imagine." Ford said with a nod, getting the idea that not all nan was naan, then turned over to the laughing and cheering out the main double doors of the room.

"Watch it! Watch it! Don't let him around! Come on!"

Mostafa motioned over to the competitors, "Didn't know they would be sparring over there, but it makes sense." he remarked, taking another bite of lamb, "That is the biggest room up here."

Ford watched as a redheaded soldier and a massive black sergeant circled each other in a hard sparring session. They were both as good as his instructors at home, but the redhead was giving away a lot of physical advantages. The black man even had speed on him.

Turning back Ford decided to ask why, in a place where rice was so plentiful, Mostafa hadn't taken any. He'd heard that Iranians were big on a few kinds of rice, so that hadn't made sense to him.

"You didn't take any rice?" Brody pointed out, pushing his own around the plate, "Don't like it?"

"Rice?" Mostafa said with a smile, "No, it's ok. It just reminds me too much of the posh Northerners and the overly wealthy. Most everyone eats rice of course, but people in my area far prefer our mix of breads."

Ford took the information and filed it away, realizing there was an entire culture Mostafa was a part of that the American never even knew existed. He would probably end up learning about these Iranians as people for this mission, not just some axis of evil boogeymen. The fact didn't bother him, but he would have liked to keep his mind free of emotional clutter if they ever fought again.

"Whoop! Watch… awww…"

A nearly insensate redhead had already hit the floor before Ford had a chance to look back. In the background the referee, a seemingly bloodless man whose hair was even pale, ended up calling it with remorse. He'd been the one giving the redhead advice through the whole thing.

"Now you do not doubt the Golden, eh LT?" the smiling black man said, shaking a finger at Lieutenant Brackman. From the back, a smaller man, hidden all but his blond hair, stood and walked around behind the taller men and entered the ring. The sergeant coughed a fit, catching some spit in his throat, when Chief Hawkins stepped onto their mat.

Ford sat up and took notice this time. The naval chief wasn't the highest ranking person around but everyone treated him as being in charge. While the sailor had heard their G calls actually signified when each person had joined the G-Unit, one first, two second and so on, not a single person Ford had seen yet doubted his authority as G1. For the first time the big sergeant looked a bit wary, maybe even scared, as someone stepped on the mat with him, so Ford wasn't going to miss this for the world.

"You still playin' that new game Chief?" Brackman asked from the back.

Hawkins just smiled, then stretched a bit and cracked a few joints, mainly his shoulders, before giving the big man opposite him an even bigger grin. The larger man dropped into a rather typically efficient military fighting stance, taking far less chances with his boss than anyone else.

"There's a point to it." Hawkins assured the lieutenant, then looked back at the big man and asked, somewhat unnecessarily, "You ready Midas?"

When the big sergeant nodded Hawkins clapped his fist into his palm and began to set up his stance. Ford almost thought the man was joking by the look of it. Instead of a tight, efficient, up to codes, military style, Hawkins went a totally different direction. The Chief spread his feet wide, making himself as stable as he could, even if it looked like he would have a hard time moving, then lowered his head and shifted his weight forward. He stopped leaning before he totally unbalanced himself, then spaced his hands out almost as wide as his feet, palms forward and fingers spread.

"That's got to be a joke." Ford said quietly, bringing Mostafa's attention over, "He's leading with his face?"

"I'd guess that's bad?" Mostafa asked and by the sound of his words it was all the same to him.

Brackman signaled the start, and Ford all but expected it to be over in seconds but Midas, as the sergeant had been called, seemed very wary of Hawkins. The Chief proved he actually could move pretty well in his strange, low stance, at least from side to side, as he slid this way and that, looking for some type of opening, though Ford had no idea what.

With an overhand right that came down like a sledgehammer Midas stepped in and slammed a fist into Hawkins' cheek. The Chief hardly budged, but his head did turn a bit. The blond, while small had to be incredibly tough, for he lunged in regardless and grabbed hold of Midas then hurled him almost across the room to land on the other side of the mat.

"Better watch it man, or you're gonna become a Golden grease smear!" Brackman laughed as Hawkins circled in on the sergeant. The big guy pushed himself up and rushed Hawkins, only for the smaller man to step out of the way and toss Midas again, this time with his own momentum. Hawkins style was in no way textbook military, but it was doing a lot of damage quickly.

"I'm on it. I'm on it." Midas said, picking himself up again and grinning despite it all.

Ford realized it was going to be the beginning of an interesting night.

* * *

9:40 pm, Philippines local time

A few miles North

On the field outside Meralco I, Angat Dam

It was dark and the stars were out. The South-Eastern sky glowed faintly with the lights of Metro Manila off in the distance. Below the last switchback, just outside the field, in the trees, Michael Stevens stood, overlooking his works.

In truth little could be seen that would suggest anything extra-ordinary on this side of the river. A few new buildings, yes, but they weren't unusual on the surface. The transformer boxes and substation just outside the main power plant looked far more high-tech than any of his additions. Certainly the two huge doors in the hill on the far side of the river would be a giveaway, if he hadn't designed them to not stand out from the road or the dam. In truth everything looked to be in order.

But the truth was a crock of bull.

Stevens hadn't had his limo take him the last stretch of the way back to his facility. He'd walked the last quarter-mile, a terrible but not insurmountable inconvenience. Now he was overlooking his works while holding back a seething rage like something a god would be familiar with. He glanced over to the South, taking a long look while a look of contempt grew on his features.

Then he started walking again. A determined stride and impeccable timing took him, unnoticed by anyone, to the command bunker. No one stopped him or challenged his authority. They were a bit shorthanded tonight as he knew they'd be.

Striding through the now empty business office and past his own workspace he went straight to the operations room. Even the on duty guard Paras was caught by surprise when he entered, though the man was sensible enough to put his coffee down and salute dutifully.

"We were not expecting you so late sir." the mercenary said, almost stumbling on his words, "We are a bit shorthanded though, the Americans haven't shown up tonight."

"That's not a concern." Stevens said, looking over the room before turning his gaze on Paras, then the man's blatantly displayed rifle, "I know where they are."

The mercenary barely concealed a shudder. Stevens gaze was cold enough to shake even a man of Paras's talents, make him feel barely worth the effort of looking at. It didn't matter though, for that cold stare locked on the scientist Davis when the man dutifully tottered in.

"You're up late tonight sir." the little fellow remarked while checking on all his readouts and maintaining a blissful ignorance of even his superior's freezing gaze, "All night operations personnel present and accounted for."

"Good enough." Stevens spat back, walking over and taking his command seat.

"Is there something you need at this time of night sir?" Davis asked, but the question fell on deaf ears. Stevens was too lost in thought, gauging the quality of the people around him. They had all been hand-picked, more interested in the research than anything else. All either too uncaring, too naïve, or like Paras, too bloodthirsty to be really bothered by anything.

"Well Mister Koenig." the commander said under his breath, "I certainly hope you'll understand, but your employment is terminated."

"What sir?" Davis asked. Stevens leaned over his desk, then, though he didn't bother responding to the smaller man's question, gave him some words to be overjoyed about none the less.

"Mr. Davis, close connections on halls seven through eighteen. Egress gates on the plant side to unsecured. Open the MUTO's doors." Stevens rested his head on his tented fingers, growling his orders as his eyes, hidden under their brows by the way his head tilted forward, took on a sinister sheen, "Release containment units one and two."


	12. It Pours

9:44 Philippine Standard time

Sunday, February 14th, 2016

Norzagaray, Bulacan, just South of the Ipo Dam

Against all of his expectations, the entire area having been nothing more than repurposed civilian housing, the base armory was actually very well stocked. Situated in a prefab concrete shed hidden out in the forest behind a blast wall, most everything was either packed or very recently set up and prepared. What a collection of weapons there was too. The selection of standard American rifles and carbines was limited, but there had to be three crates of Heckler and Koch silenced submachine guns with spare parts, alongside Beowulf conversion sets for every carbine that would switch it from the small 5.56 millimeter round up to a short and heavy 50 caliber cartridge.

The explosives they had, however, were just the best. Different formulations of RMX, HMX and CL-20 were plentiful, and they probably had enough to collapse a large portion of the countryside. Many of the strongest and most stable types were already set up in satchel charges, though the mechanical timers included made it appear as if the locals liked comically short fuses.

In the midst of all this death-dealing equipment walked a suitably impressed Ford Brody. His bomb making partner Mostafa had been up since oh-five-hundred and had almost passed out on the floor, so hard was he trying to get the bomb done. Ford had insisted the man get some rest and afterwards requested a look at whatever other equipment and explosives the group had available. It was always best to get an idea of what could go boom around him anyway.

The walk out to the armory hadn't been as long as he'd hoped, but there was a meter thick blast wall in place, God only knew how long it had taken to dig in, and two of Hawkins' men were on duty. Ford had actually almost missed them on his approach, and they hadn't challenged him. There was obviously some way the group kept in contact he wasn't being let in on.

Stopping at the end of the armory's single hall, past a box for a sniper rifle so large the sailor thought the Army, Marines or whoever had bought it must have been feeling especially emasculated that day, Ford came upon a very interesting stack of boxes. There were ten of them, one neatly on top of the other, marked with a totally unfamiliar designation. CDDAAMO was a little long, even for a military abbreviation so Ford just had to know what it was. The box top came off easily in his hands, a sure sign someone was interested in using what was within, and soon. Reaching in Ford pulled out a ten inch metal plate with four short clamps attached at North, South, East and West. A quick once over of the device, and the way its weight shifted, suggested the thick disk contained two compartments filled with fluid and a mechanism for pulling the clamps tight against a target. The arming mechanism and initiator were simple and lacked electronics, and the tips of the clamp arms…

Well they were gold?

Ford went to turn the device to the light, to check that odd shine, when the opened box lid tipped over and got in between his legs. Used to dealing with explosives in critical situations Ford deftly avoided jostling what he was holding, but as he caught his balance he could have sworn a clamp should have hit the concrete wall, yet there had been neither the feel of an impact, or any deviation of its arc.

Ford looked up at the wall with confusion. That confusion changed to dread in an instant. He had just carved a two-inch deep, foot and a half long, slash through solid rebar-laced concrete.

"Good thing we don't have to buff that out." a slightly sarcastic sounding voice with an American drawl called from behind him.

Ford turned quickly to find Chief Hawkins leaning on the crates near the door. The blond man's smile was disarming, but his sudden appearance when Ford would have sworn he was alone was certainly not.

"I'd say don't break my toys but that one you probably couldn't break if you tried." Hawkins added with a smirk, motioning to Ford he'd really like that weapon placed back nicely in its crate. The sailor was more than happy to oblige.

"That's not usual kit Chief." Brody pointed out, putting the lid back on the genie.

"Yeah, new gear just for my unit." Hawkins admitted, turning his back against the crates, "Would have loved to have a few swimming pools of what's in them two years ago, but our research hadn't ironed it all out yet."

"Anti MUTO?" Ford guessed.

"Yeah, we were just getting the chemistry down back then but high command as it was decided they'd rather set off a nuke than have a possible Hazard Class Six chemical spill that might not work anyway." the Chief said in a way that sounded noncommittal about which he thought was better.

"The units I was with lost a hell of a lot of good men." Ford grumbled, cocking his head, "And I heard we lost thousands more. A way to kill them may have been worth the risk."

"Neither here nor there anymore I'm afraid." Hawkins said, head down, then he looked up to Ford and motioned towards the door, "Mind if we take a walk while you're not busy making the bomb to save our bacon?"

Ford smiled, both betting Hideki was right about a shakedown and hoping Hawkins was just as good at picking times to strike in battle as out of it. Not letting any of that show on his face he simply nodded and said, "Sure."

Besides a single light shining down over the door of the armory lighting was pretty limited outside. As Ford stepped out into the night he moved from the bright spot to get his eyes acclimated to the darkness. The moon was only in its first quarter above them and only the barest sparkle of light filtered through the trees. Hawkins had an expensive new set of night vision gear riding up on his hairline, but never bothered to put it down over his eyes as he stepped into the darkness and headed around behind the small building. Ford followed him and found Hawkins had taken a seat at a picnic table the sailor hadn't seen on his approach. The naval Chief quickly went to working on a packed full set of combat webbing, a set of straps and connectors that held gear worn during combat to keep things at ready reach. It looked like it was already halfway set up before they got there and for the first time Ford realized Hawkins had probably been behind the armory working on it when he arrived.

"So what's this about Chief?" Ford said with a smile, leaning back against the cement wall of the armory as Hawkins fiddled with an especially stubborn set of clips.

The blond man just smirked and shook his head, not bothering to answer an obvious question. Ford had noticed, unlike before, this meeting didn't start with a salute or a sir. Hawkins had his man in charge face on.

"Hideki's told me a lot about you." Hawkins started instead, looking up, "Checked up on your record. Middle of your class for the most part, of course the middle of an EOD class is nothing to scoff at. The guys at Elgin have good things to say about you."

"I'm glad to hear it Chief." Ford replied, adding a little extra on the Chief, "I haven't heard as much from Hideki about you."

"And you won't kid." Hawkins said, pointing the small tightening wrench he was using at the lieutenant, "Look, I know you're regular military and the regs go one way there, but I got out of the teams at the end of ninety-five and after IRR in ninety-seven I helped form this unit. We aren't regular military. We're a mixed group and authority is by who's best at what's happening in the moment. Five is a Colonel. I still give orders to him in the field. That doesn't mean crap to you right now, I know, but some guys want you in that unit I fought and bled to make."

"So we get along as long as I get the fact you're in charge." replied Ford with a shrug, letting his unwillingness to argue the point show that he accepted it, "But wait, ninety-five? You don't look like you're old enough to be out of the teams."

"Heh, I'm forty-seven kid, but I'll take that as a compliment." Hawkins remarked, and managed a grin when Ford looked shocked, "I get the baby face thing all the time. You on the other hand, you were putting off pretty much a Blandy McHeroface vibe out there this morning. Your usual MO?"

Brody stifled an inappropriate fit of giggles at the Chief's words and gave another shrug, returning, "I guess, though it's hard to tell one McHeroface from another around here."

"Well we've got Baby McHeroface over here." Hawkins said with a smirk, rubbing his chin and sounding like he was conducting children at a museum, "And Pale McHeroface on the sidelines, with Golden McHeroface for a dash of color…"

Ford tried and failed miserably at holding back the laughter that had been building in him. Hawkins stopped the routine and smiled as Ford doubled over for a few seconds. The old beyond his looks chief shook his head sadly and sighed under his breath, knowing the next part would be hard.

"I'm sure there were plenty of other guys like that in the last few units you fought alongside." he added as Ford got done laughing, "So why did you let them die?"

"Ha ha…" Ford started then did a double take, "What?!"

"No, really." Hawkins poked the tool at Ford again, "You went in with units twice, against the same things. Stuff you should have been able to give them some clues about fighting, and all they managed was a couple of posthumous Medals of Honor saving your ass."

"I didn't see you there." Ford spat back, "We were up against things our weapons wouldn't hurt in the least, fighting to save millions of lives. We took on things we couldn't find weaknesses in and people died, a lot of them…"

"Oh, so you're just not that observant then." the chief interrupted, "Four encounters and you didn't do any tactical assessment."

"Tactical assessment?!" the sailor growled back, lowering his head and glaring at Hawkins, "Every single damn encounter with those monsters was a living freaking hell. People died without being able to do a damn thing against monsters that guns wouldn't hurt. No I didn't have time to stand there and do a tactical assessment."

"You still got your ass out of there every time." Hawkins pointed out, "You even pulled off a victory against… What did you call it? The next generation of monsters?"

"I couldn't have done it without all those men that gave their lives." Ford retaliated, clenching his fists with rage as he fought to not smash the wry smile off of Hawkins face, "We fought hard. They fought to the last."

"And your father? Did he fight to the last?"

Ford's eyes opened wide, he took a step forward, snarling as he stood up to Hawkins provocation, in the back of his mind he felt something tiny worming around in his subconscious, "My father has nothing to do with this. Nothing to do with the fighting. He was a civilian."

"So why did you get him killed?" Hawkins asked, and as Ford's eyes turned violent he added, "You could have stopped him from going to Janjira. You were supposed to stop him from going to Janjira. He was your responsibility wasn't he? Didn't you go there to stop him?"

Ford just stopped, his brain practically stopped working. Something at the edge of his consciousness bothered him. What was it? What was eating at him, worming its little golden way around back there?

"I… I…" Ford stammered.

"Your mother was like that too wasn't she?" Hawkins asked as Ford's charge faltered, "One morning you're putting up a happy birthday sign with her, couple hours later, well… Remind me where she is Ford?"

Ford couldn't think straight anymore. His feelings clashed in his head. Something familiar was trying to bubble its way to the surface but his feelings, his safety. The lid slammed down on Ford's emotions. It was natural to him, his way of dealing with it. He'd dealt with it. That's what he'd told Elle. That's what his father could never do. Too bad smashing down on his emotions took everything with it, even his anger at Hawkins.

And still there was something at the back of his mind bothering him. Something he should be realizing. What was that damn wyr…

"You there lieutenant?" the chief asked, tilting his head. Ford seemed to be trying to back himself through the concrete armory wall. The EOD looked up, his face back to a blank, emotionless, one note demeanor.

"I'm not dealing with this Chief." Ford remarked with a slight scowl. The words were more of a statement of fact than an admission.

"No, you're not." Hawkins said, putting down the tool and leaning back on his bench, "You haven't yet, and that, even with your exemplary service, cool head under fire, and high intelligence, is exactly why I can't bring you with us."

"Chief?" the lieutenant said, raising his voice to question just what Hawkins meant.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about doing that to you." the blond replied, standing up and lifting a knee onto the table, going back to working on his webbing, "You've never asked to join my unit. Hell you couldn't have even known about it this morning, but people in high places are pushing you at me."

"Might be a compliment I suppose." Ford said, looking down, almost as if he had forgotten being riled. Sadly, Hawkins realized the lieutenant probably had all but forgotten, disassociated it, "You push everybody like that? To what end?"

A soft noise, almost inaudible, crept into Ford's range of hearing. The sound of industrial machinery at long distance. The sailor put it off as something happening at the nearby dam.

"Well, honestly, to see if they jump me." Hawkins said with a laugh, "The kind of people I need are ones with strong personalities and willpower. People with no qualms about forcing their way forward and taking it to anyone that's wrong. It's vital they're not holding anything back, have nothing in their minds that could be used against them. They can't break, can't let anything stop them."

"So you want guys that would take a shot at you? In your own unit?"

"Yeah, strong minds, strong wills." Hawkins admitted, "You're going to get clashes with a lot of people like that in one place. You definitely have the stubbornness to force your way through damn tough situations, but you're hiding bad events in your past. The stuff we face… what we're preparing for. You can't have any weaknesses they can exploit."

Ford looked up and tilted his head in confusion, "It doesn't sound like…" he started, then stopped, thinking about it for a second more and added, "Ever since you said you formed your unit in ninety-nine. We didn't… we didn't know he was alive then."

Now it was Hawkins turn to cock his head and be confused. Ford's mind was going somewhere he couldn't quite track. In the midst of figuring it out the chief noticed the sound of heavy machinery and alarm bells drifting in from the North.

"G-Unit?" Ford said his thoughts out loud, looking up to Hawkins and quoting what Hideki had told him the group was named, "It can't be Godzilla. What does the G in G-unit stand for?"

When Ford saw Hawkins face he realized he would get no answer. A look of shock and maybe a little fear was written across the chief's features as he slowly turned his head to the North. The wide eyed stare of disbelief on Hawkins face did more to unnerve Brody than the MUTO of years before.

"That's the main doors…" Hawkins gasped, then slapped his throat hard and started talking. Ford realized what the chief was saying was for someone else when he started shouting, "Complain about your ears on your own time! The main doors on the containment unit are opening! Get eyes on Angat NOW!"

* * *

9:50 Philippine Standard time

A really big truck

Quezon City, Manila Metro, Philippines.

Night staff scrambled around the cramped, dark, command room interior as a half-dozen monitors brought up differing angles on the valley the Angat Dam sat in. Most of the images were grayscale pictures very similar to the earlier views, simply missing cars, people and the various other objects that were around only during the day. The main view up the valley from the South however had two streaks of full color light shining across it. The heavy egress doors on the East slope were fully open and spilling light, bright as day, through two swaths of terrain.

"What the hell are they doing?" Piccolo growled, snapping his fingers at this person and that so they would see his hand signal instructions. He wanted to keep his talking and the talking in the trailer down so there would be no confusion over the radio link.

"Audio, check the audio." Four, her features hidden in the darkness so that only her large, sound dampening, headphones showed, called out, switching the main speakers in the room to project the sound from Angat Dam's valley. Five gave her a sour look, as that somewhat defeated the purpose of keeping quiet, but let it slide. There was nothing coming over the audio from there at the moment anyway. The doors were already open so they were silent, and nothing else would be making loud noises in…

The overwhelming noise of a trilling squawk from Angat stopped everyone in the room cold. Then another sound, stuttering and deep, like a jackhammer set to impossibly slow, blared over the speakers.

"Did you hear that?!" Five heard Ford Brody shout. He was confused for a moment, the sounds in the trailer could only be heard through Hawkins implanted microphone, before he realized that squawk had been so loud to be heard from Ipo dam, miles away to the South.

"G5, this is G1, you better give me the bad news." Hawkins voice sounded somber.

"That was a MUTO." Ford's voice came over, slightly muffled, "How can we hear one from here?"

Those in the command trailer were deathly silent. If the volume had been turned up slightly louder someone could have heard Hawkins and Ford, even though they were only coming over Piccolo's headset. No one was talking. Everyone was too shocked. Much of the light from the closest egress gate, spreading out across the vale floor, had been eclipsed by a large, all to familiar shadow. A second, smaller, shadow was blocking some of the light from the second egress gate.

Marcus Piccolo's eyes spread wide as a gigantic, featureless, gray, limb cleared the gate and the entire road up to it, landing in the river beyond. Following it came a triangular head with glowing red eyes and a body with six legs and all the wrong angles.

Stepping out into the river totally the MUTO no longer needed to hunch down for the passage and managed to spread out a bit. Its wing arms tried to flap but the set of restraints on them prevented the wings from spreading. Reveling in its new freedom the male MUTO lifted its head to the sky and let out a triumphant roar that woke the neighbors for half a dozen miles.

"He's ninety feet, at least." Four gasped from her hidden position.

Piccolo's voice was a quiet, desperate whisper. He let as little fear as possible creep into his words as he gave the word, "Wildfire protocol abandoned. Wildfire protocol abandoned." he repeated, "Switching to Doomsday protocol."

* * *

That same time,

Monarch Containment Facility, Angat Dam

Operations Room, just below Bunker #1

There was a cheer from the staff as the first of their babies made it out into the world. Stevens smiled like a proud father as the creature whooped and chirped with obvious glee. Resting his head on tented fingers a vicious gleam touched his usually cold eyes.

"We're having problems with Two." Davis moaned at his lectern, fretfully poking at buttons, "He's turned around. Wasn't in his CU anyway."

"Not surprising. We have full release on CU One?" Stevens said, leaning back in his chair as an image of the smaller MUTO scratching around in the main hallway came up on the secondary screen.

"Yes sir, that's a go." Davis said, nodding.

Over at the underground entrance Restituto, looking tired, came in and checked the screens. Paras gave him a curt wave and the higher ranking mercenary took over.

"Release as successful as could be expected sir." the head mercenary, spent from a long day, reported, "Testing on Two suggests we should add at least a fifth number to all the lockdown sequences, and that our six number primary sequence might be insecure."

"I'm not concerned with that now." Stevens replied, "It might be hard for some of our staff to remember a seven number sequence anyway, even if it is within normal human limits."

"I'll bring it up at the next proper meeting." Restituto commented with a nod, then looked at the main screen, "You do, sir, have a way of targeting that. Don't you?"

"Be assured Mister Restituto." Stevens replied, his clipped British accent sounding more smug than ever, "That will handle itself."

* * *

International meeting place and G-Unit rally point.

On the hillside just south of the Ipo Dam

And generally in a panic

Below them in a small clearing the group's Jetranger had just gotten off the ground. Gaining enough altitude to get over the trees, its spotlight lit and swinging around ahead of it, the helicopter took off towards Angat Dam.

As he strode the meeting place like a giant from the old testament Zakaria barked orders, pointing this way and that to direct traffic. The worst news possible had broken over the place like a bomb. Most of the foreign intelligence operatives had vanished in an instant, clouds of dust on the road out marking their passing, but the Iranian found, to their credit, that the American special forces had no run in them.

Crates of heavy rifles were broken open. Packing material was scattered across the floor. Chambers and receivers were checked, bullets loaded. G-Unit and his Qod were preparing for war.

Ford Brody, weighed down with a trio of weapons crates, ran in through the open back patio doors. Having quickly switched to the jet black kit the G's wore at night he was almost invisible coming up. Two of his crates were set down with the others and Beowulf rifles started circulating through the soldiers. The third crate the sailor brought straight to Zakaria.

"G5 says this is the best he could do for you under short notice." the EOD told the taller protector, "He hopes it will be enough."

Zakaria nodded and took the crate. Laying it on the table he popped it open quickly to find the parts for the huge sniper rifle Ford had noticed in the armory earlier. Picking up one of the rounds, a massive shell with its bullet covered in blue paint, he nodded his approval.

"A DM NTW-20." the Iranian explained, "Bigger than I usually work with, but appropriate under the circumstances."

Ford was already away and familiarizing himself with the new gear. Multiple lens night vision goggles, manufactured to be small, wide-angle, and not stick out more than an inch and a half from the face. A heavy Beowulf fitted M-4 carbine with extra clips and a trio of high explosive grenades rounded out the stuff he wasn't used to carrying. Hawkins, while he didn't want Ford for his unit, had shown no hesitation arming him to defend the compound.

The Chief, who had been grabbing equipment for his webbing last Ford had seen him, breezed into the room calmly from the patio doors and headed over to the computers. The British operative Koenig nodded to him as he moved aside and let him sit. There was little information on the screens yet, but as it came in it would be sent to those terminals.

Standing up after setting his gear Ford almost did a double take when he saw how Hawkins was armed. The oddly extensive webbing the Chief was preparing now made a bit more sense, if only a little. As best Ford could figure the man was set up entirely to fight giant monsters, because his kit made no sense otherwise. Hawkins had no guns on him whatsoever, not even a service pistol, maybe because they would be useless on something huge, or maybe because there was no room for it. He was wearing four of the anti-MUTO limpet mines at ready on his legs, one on each calf, one on each thigh. His chest was taken up by varying smaller pocket kit, mostly standard stuff, and timers, which wasn't too outlandish, not compared to the number of satchel charges he had on his back. Ford couldn't quite tell if he was carrying eight or twelve of the heavy explosive sacks, but the number was something beyond sanity. They looked like tightly packed versions of the M-183 twenty pound canvas sapper bags. How he could even move with that much weight on him made no sense. The EOD decided that it was only plausible if the bags carried much lighter forms of explosive.

The big First Sergeant Midas pulled Ford's attention over with a quick stomp and as the lieutenant looked up they traded a quick salute. Smiling the sergeant handed Ford an earpiece and tapped it.

"Need you in the tac net if your going out with us sir." he explained, "It's got receive and transmit with a focused mic so you have to point that notch at your mouth for best reception."

Ford glanced the black piece of equipment over before getting the idea and putting it in his ear. The night sounds turned from panicked talking, boots stomping around and Farsi to that overlaid with quick efficient back and forth between a number of people from the G's. Ford heard Hawkins' voice and looked back with surprise. From the look of the Chief the EOD would have never guessed he was talking.

"Seven, Seven, contact." a voice Ford hadn't heard broke into the conversation on the line, "Male MUTO, moving South-South-West, approximately twenty to thirty percent larger than the one from Al Tuwaitha. Big bastard."

"Confirm Seven." Ford recognized Colonel Piccolo's voice over the line, "Get a line on him and we'll try to pick him up on satellite if we can get one at this time of night. You'll have to come back and pick up One right after that."

"On it Five." the voice, G7 apparently, replied, "The MUTO is on the slope and following along the power lines. Some of the area is cleared so he's on the path of least resistance."

"He should turn South from there when the lines swing West." Hawkins added in, without his lips moving as much as Ford could tell, "Intercepting him is going to be hell on the hills and forests between us and it."

"Five here, marking time till Godzilla arrival by our clock at twenty-one hours three minutes best approximation." Piccolo reported, "Good or bad, take it as you will."

"Team one, we have ground transport lined up, though Three isn't happy about losing that truck." Brackman's voice came over loud and clear, and Ford stifled a chuckle. Hideki liked the big black truck he'd gotten, "We'll have transport for Team two in five. The Qod are bringing in extra pickups."

"Hideki's truck will handle the terrain up there pretty well." Hawkins said, standing and turning to Zakaria, he switched to a voice all could hear, "I'll have the Qod and Team Two circle around on the roads near bit-bit and try to flank it."

The tall Iranian stood up and hefted his new twenty millimeter cannon then asked Hawkins, "Do you think you can get me within a kilometer?"

"I think the question is if anyone can keep outside of one." Hawkins pointed out, "We have to stop it before it hits Ipo dam or we're going to flood miles of the countryside. Getting close won't be a problem."

"Good." Zakaria said with his huge smile, "I'll pick a place to be dropped off."

"Chief." Koenig called back from the computers, "The tremor sensors aren't making sense."

"What?" Hawkins said, turning back to the monitors, which had just come up with seismic data, "It hasn't turned? Seven, confirm."

"Got it confirmed." Seven's Midwestern drawl called back, "He's following straight on the power lines, hasn't turned."

Hawkins switched one of the monitors to a daylight overhead map of the area. He got his face close to the monitor, as the power line towers only showed as shadows on the map, and followed where they were headed. When he got to their first stop his shoulders slumped slightly and he scowled.

"So, your second device." he said to no one in particular, though Zakaria's ears perked up, "You left it at the cement works didn't you?"

Zakaria moved closer and looked at the screen, he let out a sigh when he saw where the MUTO was headed, remarking, "That makes no sense, it should be headed to the closest radiation source."

"They don't work that way." Hawkins advised, "The echolocation they use to detect heavy elements has a very narrow sweep. They tend to head straight for the first thing they hit with it instead of sweeping around as long as the first thing is within easy range. Since the base is isolated from sound everywhere except the big open gates that are pointing more or less towards the cement works…"

"Damn." Zakaria grumbled, then pointed at a spot on the screen, "At least that leaves us more time to set up. We can intercept it here pretty easily. With luck we can avoid too many people seeing it."

"Well, you're optimistic. I'll give you that." Hawkins said, noting as the helicopter popped back up into sight, "You and I will deploy via air insert. Ford, Midas, get as many as you can fit into Hideki's truck, take the road out back down to the riverbed and pull in front of it."

"On it boss." Midas said, then turned to Ford, "Come on sir, we've got a big bug to distract."

Nodding Ford got up and followed the sergeant out. Everyone picked up, split up, and got on with what they had to do.

* * *

Three Minutes later

Angat River Valley

Heading North past the Ipo Dam

The big black pickup blew its way through some bushes and leapt into the Angat riverbed with a roar. The heavy load pickup had been stripped of its hard top to fit as many people as possible so that Ford and five others Americans were able to do final preparations in the back of the maniacally lunching and rocking vehicle. One of the two guards that had been at the armory was apparently the best driver and he was doing a fine job of keeping the pickup unstuck in the rocky terrain, but shit of a job keeping everyone's fillings in their head while doing it.

"Doesn't look like much of a river to me." Martins called out over the rumbling as the truck slammed its way over and through the small waterway when it crossed the riverbed.

"Lots of dams do that to a river." Brackman explained, checking his slide was clear and free moving.

"So the Iranians had another device." Ford said, his night vision goggles allowing him to see Zakaria drop down to a hilltop in the distance.

"No big surprise.' Midas shouted over the roar of the engine, "Boss figured they'd go for two if one would do the job. That Zakaria is no idiot. He puts on a good show about protecting the bomb maker, but it's mostly a front. He's all mission."

"Doesn't sound obvious just getting dumped into things like you were LT." Brackman added, "But we've only been working together for a day. He's all happy smiles and good communication, but Zakaria has only our word and that of the Russians to believe we're all on the exact same mission. He's way too good to run an op on somebody's word. To him there's no telling what our full objectives are, but he knows his well. Make the MUTO facility uninhabitable and if possible kill every damn one of them. Of course he has a second device to set off if he gets double crossed, any of us would do it."

Martins lifted his night vision gear and picked up one of the team's tablets. He switched it to map mode with GPS and the screen lit up with the local terrain in daytime, their current position, and the location they were headed for. The distance from the dam to the power line crossing was about a mile as the crow flies, but the river had a bend in it that added a little more than half that. The truck with its big tires and high clearance would probably make good time, but there was no telling if it would remain functional when the MUTO let off a blast so they had to get as close as they could as fast as they could. Ford found himself wishing for a topographical map so he could tell lines of sight and how high everything was.

"Looks like civilian homes about here." Martins pointed out a road with small buildings on either side of it West of the river, "So we have to keep it on the East side of the river. We'll be taking a bath for about five hundred feet before we make the turn and head up the slope here."

"Think the truck can take the depth and the hill?" Midas questioned, looking at it.

"Nothing to it but to do it." Martins said, sending the path to the navigator riding shotgun in the cab.

* * *

Watching the black pickup plow through water

Above in the Jetranger

Circling near the Angat river

"Looks like they're having fun down there!" G7 called back to Hawkins

The Chief, working on a complicated linkage in the one rope jump harness he was about to use just glanced down and gave a shrug back, then said, "Just looks all sorts of wet to me."

"Ah, ya gotta live a little." Seven said with a smirk before turning off to the East, "They'll be in position in a minute, time to wake up the neighbors!"

"Go for it." Hawkins said with a grin as the pilot turned on the main searchlight. He saw motion near one of the electrical towers and turned the light that way. Whipping up a wind that had the trees underneath bending too and fro the Jetranger began sweeping up along the power lines, careful to keep safe distance until a huge form loomed out of the darkness.

The MUTO, striding slowly along the open area under the power lines, reacted poorly to having a bright light shined on it. Reaching forward it sent its longest arms toward the blinding light and stood slightly, but backed away when it got too close to the high tension wires above it. The helicopter's spotlight lit both the male and the tower it was standing near. The creature was already tall enough to probably get a bit of a buzz off the lowest power lines.

"Heeeere buggy buggy!" G7 jeered, "Nice buggy."

"We've got his attention." Hawkins called over the coms, "Get ready for the lights to go out."

"Aww but he's a nice buggy! He wouldn't…" Seven started, then noticed the MUTO's front forearms beginning to glow red, "Well, shit."

The MUTO brought its claw arm down like the sword of Damocles, smashing against the ground and letting go a massive burst of disruptive energy. The spotlight blew in a shower of sparks and the helicopter jerked sideways, half its internal lights burning out in an instant. Seven quickly reached forward to a cowl covered switch on the bottom right of his control panel and began fiddling with it.

"Startin' to remind me of Louisiana in oh-five!" G7 laughed as the helicopter slewed sideways and swung around, its engine sputtering and choking. Without concern Hawkins tossed the weight at the end of his descent line out the door.

"Put her down in that field we saw." he shouted at the pilot, "I'll see you later!"

Seven was too busy to do anything but nod in reply as he worked the controls of his craft. Hawkins jumped out and vanished into the darkness.

* * *

Moments earlier

Angat River Valley

Heading East up the slope towards the electrical towers.

"Remember." Midas shouted as the truck bumped and rocked up the incline, "They can't tell humans apart very well. We keep them confused. Hit and then keep them switching targets. Their skin flashes when you land a shot they feel, even if it doesn't pierce."

Ford nodded, trying to hold himself steady in the wildly pitching four by four. It was becoming obvious Hawkins men weren't approaching their first giant monster firefight. Making a last check that all his equipment was ready at hand, and that his gun was in working order Ford perked up his head as a warning from Hawkins came over the radio.

"Aww! Not in the caaaar!" Martins laughed as the front doors flew open, "Time to ditch the ride!"

"Up and out!" Midas commanded in a voice that brooked no dissent. In a split second every one of the team debussed like the professionals they were, just as the pulse wave from the MUTO passed over them and stalled out the truck in the worst possible place. The driver and navigator kneeled down into covering positions, the doors that would have been in their way suddenly removed as the truck keeled back over and flipped backwards. With a sickening series of crunches and booms the truck flipped, rolled and cart wheeled back into the riverbed then slammed down on all four wheels and sat there like nothing happened.

"Wooo, on the wheels this time." Martins said, then looked at Midas, "That's a five you owe me."

"I'll take it off the twenty you owe me for the last one that blew up." Midas said, his grin showing brightly on the night vision.

"I can not be blamed if the car is angry." the redhead returned, holding a hand over his heart.

Ford shook his head, hardly believing how relaxed the two of them were. The rest of the team, under the cover of those that used to be in the cab, had already made it to the crest of the hill. Brackman whistled softly and motioned for the two stooges down below to stop the comedy act and get their asses in gear. They had about eight hundred feet between them and the MUTO, its roars and odd noises already punctuating their action with a surreal quality, and since they had to wheel around to the South of it that was still quite a distance uphill with full kit at a run.

Above them, its engine coughing and sputtering, their Jetranger half flew, half auto rotated in a slowly descending arc, heading back for a clearing to the South. Ford couldn't see Hawkins in the side door and hoped the Chief had managed to get out on his own instead of getting thrown by the concussion of the MUTO's pulse.

Ford checked behind them, and could barely make out the shape of very small houses through the trees far back on the West side of the river. Turning he and the team made their way at a good clip through the forest and up the hill. The helicopter was already out of sight by the time they were halfway there, which wasn't unexpected. The problem that had arisen though was, in fact, everything else was out of sight too. The brush was so close they couldn't see a damn thing. Only the squawks of the MUTO and the senses of those in front were guiding them.

Six hundred feet in the group broke into a clearing South of the power lines. It was the first thing he'd seen to make Ford realize they were going just where they expected to. The MUTO would be about two hundred feet North of them, visible if it weren't for the forest between the two clearings. Getting his bearings Ford turned with the rest and headed towards the MUTO's deep rumbling voice. They hadn't gotten a few feet before the pitch of the male's sounds suddenly changed.

Ford held up a hand, stopping everyone and motioned that something sounded wrong. The last call from the MUTO. It had been an alarm squawk. The same noise he'd heard one like it make on Oahu.

"Problem LT…" Midas started but got no further. There was a blast ahead of them, a sudden surge of sparks in the night culminating with another of the MUTO's pressure waves, before they were all bowled over by a massive, ear-splitting roar. Something huge, just beyond their line of sight, let loose a bellow far beyond what the MUTO was capable of.

"What the hell?" someone shouted. Everyone moved quickly, picking themselves up. Out beyond their clearing the sound of trees cracking and crashing to the ground was spaced in with two different sets of roaring beasts.

SKIWWW BRRROW! CHT CHT CHT CHT

Ford leaned in, listening. He recognized some of the wide variety of sounds the MUTO made.

CH-R-R-R-R-IT! CHR-R-R-R-T!

The strange chirping, up and down noise coming from whatever else was out there the EOD didn't recognize at all.

"Fan out!" Brackman ordered, pointing people into positions, "Whatever that is we can't get close to a fight like that!"

Ford rather easily agreed with the other Lieutenant's decision. He couldn't make out anything very well through all the trees, nor colors through his night vision, but he got occasional glimpses of the MUTO's claws rising and falling, along with something else. He could have sworn he saw the flank of some huge reptile, with very well-defined, squared off, scales, in momentary flashes in the spaces between the trees.

Whatever it was, it had to be far larger than the MUTO, maybe even larger than the first male he'd seen.

The light of a fire, lit by the crackling high tension wires, overwhelmed Ford's night vision goggles and they switched off, leaving him with only that distant light source. For a moment there was the slightest glimpse of a gigantic eye with a round iris looking in their direction through the trees, then it was blocked by the glowing red of the MUTO. The ground shook. There was a screech then an impact so strong the entire team was thrown again to the ground.

Ford rolled with the impact, went to get up, and froze in awe. The MUTO was above them. He could see it in the light of the fire as it sailed through the air under a power not its own. It was stretched out long ways, tumbling as its body followed its head through a ballistic arc. Five slightly glowing, bleeding, claw wounds ran down its body from chin to chest, easily visible as it cleared the forest, soared over their field and crashed like a meteor strike amongst the trees beyond.

Ford's mouth hung agape. He realized what he had seen. Something had just, for lack of a better word, PUNCHED, an office building sized MUTO more than a thousand feet. The roar from the beast that did it, a strange almost metallic sounding noise that rose and fell quickly in pitch rang through the forest.

CHR-R-R-R-R-RIT CHROW SKRIT SKROW!

Everyone scrambled to their feet yet again as first one, then another, boom shook the ground beneath them. The sound of colossal footsteps and trees shattering assailed their ears. Ford shook his goggles and got them working again as everyone leveled their guns high in the treeline, leaned over their sights and waited. No one knew what they could do against something that manhandled a MUTO like Godzilla in a bad mood, but every one of them had a job to do and by God they weren't going to stop doing it.

Ford just hoped Elle had a husband and Sam a father afterwards.

The crunching closed on them. Something huge moving through the forests. Safeties off, heads down, eyes peeled. The team knelt, motionless as statues, keeping that treeline in their sights and not turning away come love nor money.

The booming stopped, so very close. It had to be just beyond the nearest trees. The land descended into complete and utter silence. The fire, though near, wasn't crackling anymore. Not an animal stirred. Not even a cricket dared make a sound so deathly silent had it become. It was close. Right there. Right beyond those trees. The world stopped. The men dared not even breathe, their fingers on the trigger.

And Hawkins burst through the brush behind them running full tilt.

"I don't know what you're doing pointing your guns over there!" he shouted as shocked eyes turned back to him, "But it CAN'T be worse than over here!"

The trees behind him exploded, shattering as the enraged MUTO came smashing through them. Spreading its clamped in wings and holding its claws forward like a man gripping the air in frustration the ninety foot tall beast bellowed out a challenge so loud the teams night vision goggles began to fritz. Five furrows dripping whitish ichors stood out vividly on its neck and chest. The beast crashed back into its normal standing position and scanned the ground before it with a sweep of its great head.

The firing started.

G-unit didn't miss a beat. With Ford trailing only a second behind all seven of them opened up with a stuttering hail of semi automatic, 50 caliber, fire. The MUTO flinched, half a dozen bullets finding the rent wounds in its chest.

As the beast decided its best course of action Hawkins turned back towards it so hard he skidded and had to grab the ground. His other hand pulled a limpet mine off the side of his shin and he raced back towards the MUTO's closest arm. Pressing his weapon's priming switch the Chief swung it in a wide arc and slammed it home as high as he could on the MUTO's glowing, hooked appendage, then lunged around to head back for his team. The actions weren't a moment too soon. With only a quick glance at the odd thing stuck on its limb the MUTO raised the glowing hook high in the air and sent it hurtling down towards the soldiers annoying it. A wisp of steam coming off it the MUTO's hook was three-quarters of the way down to stomping on them…

Before the second stage of the mine activated and blew the lower half of its arm off.

The MUTO screamed. Instead of getting a mighty electromagnetic pulse suddenly it found itself off-balance with its forearm ending in a mighty burst of flame. Using its wing arm to hold itself up the beast zeroed in on the running mite before it, the one that had touched it in that same spot earlier.

"Watch out!" Ford shouted, seeing what the MUTO was about to do. Hawkins was just detaching a satchel charge from his back when the beast shifted and started to swing its remaining hook arm across towards the Chief like a giant club. Leaning forward with its mouth wide open the MUTO put everything it had into the swing.

Hawkins set the timer on the satchel charge he was holding then began to swing it on its strap. Ford thought him insane as he turned to run _towards_ the oncoming limb, but in an instant the EOD realized the move was sound. The creatures swing was overextending, not used to being aimed at such a small target, and burrowing just a bit into the ground. If Hawkins could just time it right.

The move wasn't something you'd see in any military, always keep your feet on the ground, textbook. Even so Ford knew as Hawkins legs coiled and he leapt up and at the arm, still swinging his satchel charge and winding up for a throw, that the textbook moves didn't always apply to these situations and none of them would have gotten the Chief so clear a shot. The MUTO's arm went right under the jumping man as Hawkins shifted his shoulders and hurled the explosive package as deep as he could into its throat. Given the range at and aim with which Hawkins had thrown it, Ford was more sure than ever the charges didn't hold the normal weight of explosives.

Damned if the MUTO cared though. For a second the beast looked like a fire-breathing dragon. The explosion went off deep enough in its mouth to unhinge the right side of its jaw. The agonized, half choked, roar the thing let out could have almost made Ford sorry for a multi-thousand ton killing machine.

"Clear! Clear!" Brackman's voice suddenly sprung up from his earpiece, "Time limit on male pulse is past!"

Turning and working at its lower jaw with its two smaller arms the male MUTO scowled at the soldiers in front of it with undisguised rage. Whitish ichors splashed on the ground and every one of the team was sticky with some level of MUTO blood or innards.

Hawkins dashed across the field and the MUTO's head followed him, bringing its right eye just where it needed to be.

Ford didn't know what happened first. The sudden impact and blast that rained down red glowing material from the MUTO's now cracked eye, or the sound of a massive cannon that caught him off guard and was ringing in his ears.

The MUTO shook its head, caught on to its dangling lower jaw before doing any more damage to itself, and let out a screech that went beyond just waking the dead all the way to scaring them back into their graves. Now it was _really_ pissed.

"Team One! Fall back! Fall back!" Hawkins roared over the intercom.

"Confirmed!" Brackman's voice came right after the Chief's. The whole team wheeled, half covering while the other half ran like hell to a position they could cover in turn. Ford snapped off another few shots before dropping his clip and switching to his third.

"MUTO has suffered heavy damage." Piccolo's voice popped up over the line, "Distraction squad to fall back. Extermination unit to full commitment."

"Get its head up and I think I can take that dangling jaw off it." Zakaria's voice came over Ford's earpiece, which was odd because as far as the sailor knew no one had let him in on the party, "You have to move your ground team away quickly. We don't know when the other aggressor will reappear."

"Move move move!" came the call from Midas. His half of the team was in place for covering fire. Ford turned back and sprinted towards the relative safety of the low ground cover in the woods. The entire thing took on a surreal feel. Explosions going off, what he saw switching from false color night vision to sudden bursts of full color firelight.

Ford hit the bush behind Brackman with Midas right on his heels. They were sprinting for home. Whatever else happened this night, Ford Brody's part in it was done.


	13. 4000 views! Yay! (Update 9-6-14)

9/22/2014: Nothing too special. I'm just thanking my devoted readers for 4000 views! You rock!

Got about a third of the newest chapter done. Trying to remember exactly what has to happen in what order isn't easy with a story this complex. I'll do my best for you guys!

9/6/2014: How do you cool down from a big, adrenaline filled, heart pumping fight(for me at least)? Well it's a bit of a crash.

I'm kind of rattling my head trying to shake loose the cobwebs. Also a little Godzilla'd out waiting for my copy to come... 16th move your butt! The story is coming out in dribs and drabs, a little here and a little there. Can't rush it right now or it will really suck. Trying to get that mix of emotions right and the meeting of old friends and such, little hard after WHAM BOOM POW! She's goin' as fast as she can cap'n! Also picked up a little too much of JeremyJahns speaking vibe in my writing watching too many of his reviews. You know that staccato, trying to get a car to go somewhere but you can only have your foot off the gas or to the floorboard thing? Yeah... I've got that.

Fingers crossed for Monday!

**IMPORTANT UPDATE: 8/25/2014 Arrivals and It Pours**

Along with posting the new chapter I've moved this Update thread to the bottom to catch everyone's attention. When I put three chapters out in three days last week, to avoid a 15,000 word chapter, most people missed the second chapter Arrivals. Arrivals chronicles Serizawa and Graham's hunt through Manila for their rogue operation, and adds a bit more about the antagonistic human character's background and scope. Not everyone missed it, but more than half did and I would be lax if I let my valued readers get confused later when I can see how many people went to each chapter of the story.

And don't forget the first battle, contained in the newest chapter, It Pours, is out now!

8/24/2014 My birthday is tomorrow YAY!

I'm sending everyone a birthday present with chapter 11, or 13 or whatever they say it is on since everything has a chapter number, even this. That chapter is an extra special 8,989 words long for my favorite fans!

I am a bit worried though. A lot of people have missed the chapter Arrivals since I put three chapters out so fast. Half my readership may be missing a lot of Serizawa's motivations and Stevens machinations.

8/17/2014 hmm... can't use the spell checker from my tablet... This is gonna be a mess.

First off I have to thank all my loyal viewers. Counts are getting close to 2500 now. I appreciate that so much. Special thanks to all those who've faved and followed! If anyone wants to chime in about what they like, or especially what they don't like, it would go a long way in helping me improve the story and holding my sadly mercurial interests here. On that note I really have to thank my bud Kieran for following me over from a Visual Novel site and giving his opinion! He's a really good writer to if you can find the nrvnqsr forums that I can't link here.

I'm planning on keeping this author's notes section on the bottom but I've run into a conundrum. When I move these notes reviews, and therefore your responses to my questions, don't move with it. That's quite a head scratcher. I'll have to figure out something to do about that.

* * *

8/15/2014 and adding to the top so people see it.

I have finally gotten to the place I mentioned in the author's notes below, and found that point is FIFTEEN THOUSAND words further on. As to not make people's eyes bleed trying to reach the end of the chapter I'm splitting it up into three parts and releasing them on consecutive days.

Thank you,

SRO

* * *

Hello all.

I'm breaking with the silence I've kept on this story in order to crow about 2000 views and to give you guys a general layout of what's coming up. We're already 30,000 words in, and while a lot has happened, there hasn't been a lot of kaiju on kaiju. That's not uncommon for a Godzilla movie, but this is fanfiction, a medium usually used for working out mighty "this vs that" scenarios while possessing a mixture of testosterone, adrenaline, and unfortunately bad grammar, in spades.

I hope the people still with me, and I must admit the number of those here actually surprises me, aren't too bored with the technobabble and explanations. I needed these first few chapters to set up the story and make a large amount of what starts happening at the end of the next chapter make sense.

Without further ado, I'll give you a schedule of events.

[Making the bomb.

[Night time "crouching muto hidden daikaiju" battle.

[The Dam raid

[Set piece battle, military vs daikaiju

[Second act setup daikaiju vs daikaiju

[New daikaiju reveal

[Set piece battle, daikaiju vs daikaiju

[Third act reactions and downtime

[Revelations and surprise attack

[Fourth act start daikaiju two on one

[Air war over Hong Kong

[Completion human protagonist arc

[Daikaiju two on two curb stomp

[Final reveals

[Three way FFA

[Dénouement

So? Who's with me for the ride. This won't be a flash in the pan, but maybe a bit of a slow burn.

Keep an eye on the locations listed when the scene switches. Besides Janjira, which doesn't exist, every other location can be found on the map, just Google it. Some of the locations are a bit general, some are very precise. Surprisingly I've heard for the Godzilla 2014 San Francisco set pieces, the special effects team used Google to get images of the locations they were working with. I appear to be in good company.

There'll be a poll later, on my profile since I can't put it here, to decide what Daikaiju cameo's in Hong Kong.

Party on! Have fun!

SRO out


	14. Cooldown

Around Midnight

International meeting place and G-Unit rally point.

Norzagaray, Bulacan, just South of the Ipo Dam

He felt weak. Not the weakness of body, though he had been up a damn long time already, but of spirit. Combat always drained him, and as always it seemed he wasn't the only one it had that effect on. Two of the men from unit one were in the corner, being looked at by the medics, and it wasn't for physical injuries. Neither of them had been hit in any way during the combat. Hell, none of them had.

Ford picked his head up, looking around, before pulling the damp cloth he had been holding in the wash basin up to his face. The water felt good as it washed away the accumulation of paint and dirt he had built up there, one to reduce glare, one from the fires and tumbling in the forest. The smell of cordite was slowly receding from his senses.

The room was still dark, lit slightly by wan candles and an old lantern. They'd kept the whole place dark so they could keep their night vision without the goggles weighing on their heads and see the others filtering into the compound in ones and twos. It was a bit relaxing and Ford could almost forget the images of the roaring, hideously wounded, MUTO that flashed on the back of his eyelids every time he closed his eyes.

Hideki was there, Ford could hear his voice, if he couldn't find him in the dark. The most affected, probably newest, members of the team were over in the darkest corner of the room and the psychologist was talking to them softly. Training for fighting giants, planning to combat things that you couldn't even touch the ankle of if you reached up as high as you could, was all well and good. Actually fighting them? That was hell.

Midas and the redhead, Ford couldn't remember the smaller man's name at the moment, were standing along the wall, talking softly to each other. You could tell the ones that had been at this the longest. The big sergeant was doing well, holding up his composure for the men, but Ford could pick out that he was feeling it. The redhead though? This was all old hat to him, he hadn't made a twitch out of place during the whole thing or the way back. Even had the occasional joke, though nobody was in a mood to laugh anymore.

The other Lieutenant, Brackman, was sitting in the corner, hat down, apparently getting some sleep, though he was doing it with his gun over his chest. Not safe to be sure, but Ford couldn't blame him. The MUTO, spilling whitish fluids and roaring from a broken mouth, would probably haunt his dreams for a while, if something worse didn't show up in the meantime.

The two medics, neither of which Ford had caught the names of, were keeping together, separating one man at a time and checking them over for wounds the soldiers probably wouldn't have realized they had until the night passed and with it the last of their adrenaline. There was always a quiet whispering coming over from their way, as they checked on this and that, then wrote down some notes and carried on.

Through a window to the East a bright blue light flared, as bright as the sun. It lasted for ten or twenty seconds, then it was gone again. The whole of the outdoors had caught its blue glow for the moment before the blaze faded away.

Ford's head was so muddled he really didn't manage to care. Two more men from team one had just made it back. The last of the diversion team. Of the ones that made it to the fighting, only the extermination team was left to go.

It was half an hour later before Koenig got a report over the radio from the Qod and the second team. They had the fires out at the battle site. It had been bright, but small and easily contained. The sparks that had started it had come from near misses to the power lines and the occasional brush against the towers. The high tension wires were still standing and no one had lost power.

At least there was some good news, nothing about the extermination team or the MUTO though.

Hideki made it back Ford's way and sat down beside him, "How are you doing?" the Japanese man asked as Ford sat there, looking into the now mostly empty wash basin.

"Cooldown." Ford pointed out, rubbing his face in his hands.

"In more ways than one eh…" Hideki started, then looked up and smiled wanly and added, "Well look who the cat dragged in."

No one had the energy left to manage even a hello for the two darkened forms in the side door. By the looks of it the fatigue was mutual. Ford really couldn't tell which of the two looked worse.

Zakaria limped into the door. He was bent over pretty far to support Hawkins' weight since the Chief didn't seem to be carrying himself very well. They both were scraped up pretty badly and Hawkins' left arm was hanging limp at his side. The two of them helped each other over to one of the nearest bare spots on the floor and let themselves down together with movements that suggested their pains had pains on top of them.

Ford and Hideki headed over as the medics swooped in on the pair of wounded. Separating Zakaria and Hawkins quickly each medic started going over their grocery list of injuries as Brody crouched down by them.

"How did it go?" the sailor asked.

Hawkins was trying to get a word in but the medic was too busy poking and prodding him so Zakaria, who seemed less hurt, started for them, "We hurt it, badly, got a few more good shots in." the guardian pointed out. Ford realized Hawkins had no charges left and only one mine on his left leg, while Zakaria's cannon was nowhere to be seen.

"Closed in when I was out of ammo and got some charges from Byran here." Zakaria continued, "We set some traps, got it down, barely missed the headshot with a limpet mine to kill it."

"So damn close." Hawkins mumbled, then grunted in pain as the medic worked on his limp left arm.

"We got separated. The other thing came back, don't know where it was hiding." Zakaria pointed out.

"Hit it hard." Hawkins confirmed, "We had split up, tried to confuse the MUTO. Something huge blew out of the forest, carried it across the river. They went East."

"Plowed everything in front of them." the Iranian continued, "Lost sight of them in the hills and forests. It was an unbelievable battle."

"Took Zakaria more than an hour to find me." the Chief added, trying to swat the pair of medics that were now crowding him, "I got blown back in the combat, was unconscious and it was dark."

"He was under some debris, more than twenty meters from where I'd last seen him." Zakaria admitted, "It took me forever to zero in on him, when I did we headed back here."

"Any idea about the MUTO?" Ford was rather more interested in the mission.

"None, but it was already hurt, against something three times its size." Zakaria said, and Hawkins nodded.

One of the medics, pulling out a blood taking kit, looked over at Hawkins and sheepishly said, "It's about that time anyway boss. We'd better check for contam levels."

Hawkins raised an eyebrow and looked at the medic then remarked, "Now? Haven't I lost enough blood tonight?"

The Chief looked over at Hideki who just shrugged. There was going to be no help from there. Resigned to it Hawkins gave the medic his working arm. The needle went in easily and they took a syringe of blood from him.

"Odd timing." Ford pointed out as the medics went back to bandaging Hawkins up.

"Ah, just some scheduled thing." the Chief brushed it off.

* * *

Some time earlier.

Monarch Containment Facility, Angat Dam

Operations Room, just below Bunker #1

Unit Director Michael Stevens glowered at the monitors, his chin resting on his hands. He had a hard time believing what he was seeing, but the facts were right there in black and white. Sighing and cracking his neck he turned to look around the bleached white operations room. There were a number of conversations going on, people standing over the few that remained sitting and chatting about the readouts on the monitors. Stevens himself returned to the large drawing he'd been working on before, putting a few more details on it in pen.

Mr. Davis looked wearily at a paper tape readout in his hand, some old holdover of his from earlier days, and shook his head before turning to report, "All sensors implanted in experimental One-alpha are down sir. The creature isn't just dead, something apparently melted the sensors along with it."

"Confirm readouts before data disconnect." Stevens said.

"Temperature was passing 2200 Celsius on all monitors." Davis replied, sounding tired to the bone, "I'm surprised we even got numbers that high. It's far higher than the design tolerances."

"The MUTO's armor may have protected them." Stevens reasoned, then looked over to Restituto. The man looked scared to the core, something Stevens had never seen in him. The Director waved a hand at the mercenary and drew his attention.

"Sir?" Restituto said, looking at the monitors, "I hope you know my men can not defend against something like that."

"I'm less concerned about magical ghosts Mister Restituto, than I am about angry Americans at this point." Stevens replied, scratching a hand pensively, "I'd like you to call everyone you have in. Get them to sleep at the plant if you have to. We need every man in round the clock for the foreseeable future."

"Sensible, and understood sir." the mercenary replied, saluting, then turned to his subordinate lazing in the corner and got him up, "We'll get on it immediately."

"See that you do." Stevens said, his hand making a small twist of the pen and finally completing the project he'd been working on, the entire details of the G-Unit plan of attack before him on the paper, ready to exploit, "See that you do."

* * *

Dawn, 6:20 am, Monday February 15th, 2016

International meeting place and G-Unit rally point.

Norzagaray, Bulacan, just South of the Ipo Dam

The sound of plates and dishes being worked on was the first thing that woke Ford Brody up. The smell of strong coffee, tea and Mostafa's favorite breakfast bread was a close second. As he could figure it, sunrise was far, far to early to be waking, but Mostafa, unlike the rest of them, had gotten a full night's sleep.

With a creaking groan Ford pulled himself up off the collection of clothes scattered atop a half salvaged futon he'd somehow managed to land on in the kitchen when he'd passed out. Reaching a sitting position he looked up to see Mostafa racing around the stoves and sinks, getting things ready with the same zest the man used in just about everything. There was obviously too much food for two people on the plates, so it was likely Mostafa was getting breakfast ready for at least half the people in the house.

Ford did a double take when he realized the bomb maker was also finishing up a few parts of the bomb they were going to be working on later, during getting breakfast ready.

"You aren't going to get that mixed up are you?" the sailor asked the rapidly working Iranian.

"I don't know… what does Semtex taste like?" Mostafa asked back, though with a wink that made it obviously a joke before he switched gears, "Good morning! I hear you had some excitement last night."

"Yeah, that's one thing to call it." Ford said, scratching his chin, "Morning to you too."

"Ugh, anybody get the number on that truck?" Martins' redhead popped into the room, followed shortly afterwards by Martins, "I smell coffee, coffee, only one thing smells like coffee and that's coffee."

Mostafa gave the soldier a kind smile and handed him a piping cup of the dark brown liquid, then moved away from him like he wasn't quite sure the redhead was entirely sane. Martins all but collapsed onto one of the tall chairs around the countertop and stared into his cup like he was searching for the meaning of life, or at least double espresso.

"Hawkins and Zakaria are up already." Mostafa pointed out, handing Ford down a cup, "They look rather a mess, but neither wants to admit it. Oh, apparently the American intelligence men left a very large television in their room and everyone is excited about getting it installed down here."

"Do they even play sports in the Philippines?" Martins grumbled.

Mostafa shook his head and shrugged. He hadn't the foggiest either.

"Coffee." Zakaria, without preamble, said as he popped into the room.

"Oh you like this?" Mostafa asked, pouring another cup, "Seems bitter to me. I'd much rather my tea."

"I like my brain working." Zakaria set things straight, taking an overly large gulp and making a face, "Not much can be said for this taste though."

"French roast I think?" Mostafa remarked, looking at the label on the can.

"Ugh." Ford groaned after taking a sip, "Better not tell the French that."

"What are they going to do? Send Jean Reno after us?" Martins quipped, feeling a little better. The Iranians looked at each other in confusion before brushing the whole thing off as meaningless.

Ford stood up and straightened out his wrinkled clothing. He was far too used to sleeping in it, probably because of the last bad incident he'd been in. Deciding that he'd rather have cereal, since the cupboards were stocked pretty well with things he recognized, unlike whatever Mostafa was making, he grabbed a bowl and a box.

"Milk and spoons on the left." Mostafa said, as if it was for the tenth time today. Ford headed over.

Pouring himself a bowl the EOD got a good look at what was happening in the main room. A half-dozen people were jostling one of the largest flat screen televisions he'd ever seen into position on a comically small pedestal. Everyone seemed to be a different size though, especially with Midas being the only one large enough to get a good grip, and it was going rather badly. It seemed Hawkins was trying to direct, but since one of his arms wasn't moving as well as the other his hand signals weren't doing much good.

"Has anyone even checked if this place has cable or something?" a voice Ford didn't recognize by name, one of the Qod probably, asked.

"We have all the cables it was hooked up to." another man, one of the medics, replied, trying to slot giant TV A into tiny support B with little success.

"Yeah, thanks for that tripping hazard by the way." Koenig's dulcet British tones cut through the conversation, "Great start to a morning."

Ford put the likelihood of wires, probably a lot of them, mucking up the stairs, on his mental list of things to avoid for that day.

"No, no! That's not HDMI!"

"Does anyone even know what these wires are attached to?"

"Can we put this thing down yet?"

"Anyone who said a thin screen is lighter was full of it."

Ford peeked into the door when things finally went quiet and the TV slotted in with a serious clunk. The group had gotten the monster slotted into its miniscule base and had already plugged in the power. Someone was in the back plugging in cables and wires so the show would probably be started soon. Noting that there wasn't a single chair left in the common room Ford grabbed a folding one and pulled it around the corner before taking a seat.

With a crackle the huge screen came on… to the tail end of an episode of Pawn Stars of all things. Blinking Ford tipped his head and wondered where that came from. The channel switched quickly… to yoga. People were coming down the stairs now, and at least one was coming down faster than they had expected, with the sound of the TV. The channel surfing had just led them to an anime, not quite what they were looking for. Next they hit some commercials during something called Aksyon sa Umaga, which they surfed past.

"Maybe I should do it."

"Have fun, jackasses didn't take the TV, just the remote."

"Oh for the love of…"

CLICK!

Most of the people sitting on the floor stood. All eyes fixed on the television set, its enormous, high-definition, image showing a beautiful view of the jungle, which looked local, from above. Somewhere, not too far away, a helicopter was flying over a trail of ruin.

Ford looked at the surreal scene, glad that there weren't yet enough people standing to block his view of the huge screen. It reminded him of all the footage Elle had showed him from the MUTO incident. At least this time human-free woodland had caught the brunt of the mangling.

Someone was talking in Tagalog, explaining what they were showing to the viewers in voiceover. The captions in English, typical of a news program, helped Ford make sense of what he was seeing.

**Deadly Battle in Norzagaray Wilds**

The view switched to footage someone took from a distance the previous night. Head and body above the trees one could see the screaming and gyrating MUTO, lit by tracers and the nearby fire, as it was engaged. The footage was grainy and obviously zoomed, but the beast still looked terrifying, lit from below by flames and wreathed in explosions.

**Stunning and Terrific Aftermath! Thirty Miles of Destruction!**

The view switched back to the trail of wrecked forest then another cut to a ground camera brought the scene into the darkened space under the trees. Still large enough to dwarf the men standing around it, and covered with dripping ichors the MUTO's severed lower jaw was yet another terrifying sight. The police were clearing some locals away from the ripped clean mandible as hazmat suited men held Geiger counters towards it.

**Bowl of Death!**

Ford was confused by that headline for a moment before his eyes resolved the strange overhead view the program had switched to. By the yellows and the ocean he could tell it was probably a beach, but figuring out what was in the middle…

Ford almost dropped his spoon when he got it. He was one of the few people still sitting not to stand, and not for lack of wanting to.

**Remains of Dead Beast!**

Whatever could do that… whatever had done that… Ford didn't want to meet it.

It was the MUTO, what was left of it, burnt to a crisp. It sort of looked like a dead spider left out in the sun too long the way it was all curled up and cracked. Sometime, either after or during its destruction, the creature's legs had broken free and the whole thing looked like a giant compass in the sand… Just it wasn't sand anymore.

The bowl of heat formed glass the MUTO was laying in was four times its size. The arthropod horror was half buried in blackened glass and melted rock itself.

Midas and Hawkins shared a glance Ford couldn't quite read. Something close to concern maybe.

That was it. Ford finished off the last of his cereal and headed back into the kitchen. He had a lot of work to do.

* * *

A few minutes later

Above the corner of Quezon Avenue and West 4th street.

Crossing the pedestrian overpass.

"Got it, Economy Sized Semi Squeezed into a parking lot on West 4th street across from the McDonald's. How did you know to look near a McDonald's?"

Doctor Ishiro Serizawa let a wan smile cross his lips listening to the satellite imaging technician's voice coming over his smartphone. How did he know indeed? Really he simply had to know what his quarry needed, specifically high standing long-range broadcast towers, and who was among them, again specifically someone who had never avoided a McDonald's in his life, to figure out where they were.

With a glance over to the side Serizawa double checked that the huge, cement colored, semi was still in place, taking up some poor business's parking lot and probably making them unhappy but rich. Standing atop the pedestrian walkway gave him a good view. If an army traveled on its stomach they'd picked a great spot.

From a cursory examination the director could tell the truck itself, besides being huge, was set up with an extensive array of communications equipment. Serizawa was surprised to find, however, that the back roof of the truck looked to contain a massive set of heat sinks and air conditioning. It seemed a little excessive for a thin-walled truck and he had to wonder just how big of a computer system they had in there.

Heading down the staircase to the small fast food restaurant's parking lot Serizawa picked out the person he was looking for, ensconced in the front corner of the building behind the bay windows. He was surrounded by computer equipment as usual and paying for his space with an unhealthy amount of fast food. Some people never changed.

Pressing past some people coming through the door of the crowded shop Serizawa turned away from the cashiers and headed towards his target's corner. The man was around Serizawa's age or a little older, with similar salt and pepper black hair, though his was either European or American racially. His skin was a little more tanned than it had been in the past, but he, amazingly, hadn't given up on wearing white coats, even in public. At least the coat the man now wore wasn't a full floor length lab coat. Though he hadn't changed outwardly that much, Serizawa found it impressive that the person, who hadn't been technically proficient before, was now working on two tablets at once and using them to control three monitors over a pair of heavy-duty computer towers, both of which supported a bewildering array of flashing lights and connections to other, distant, systems.

Leaning forward the director glanced back and forth between monitors. The displays showed a mix of biological data, news reports, seismic readings and on the far corner, a number of cameras taking pictures of corridors in a facility the director was not familiar with. Pulling up his smart phone, Serizawa snapped a picture of what was on the man's computer screens and sent it back to headquarters. Images of the pint-sized MUTO wandering the clinically sterile hallways were, at the very least, something they'd be interested in. The director stifled a gasp when he realized how large the halls were, and that the MUTO was walking past many humans, by their dress lab techs and researchers, without incident.

As oblivious of the world outside his work as ever the man Serizawa was standing over leaned back and stretched, giving his all to a prolonged yawn with his eyes closed. The director just looked down and smiled, waiting for his target to finally see him. It only took a few seconds for the man, who looked like he'd been up all night, to open his eyes and find Serizawa staring him down. Rubbing his head Marion "Mar" Stevens, previously of Monarch, as of late the redoubtable G2, gave the director a bemused look, then a wide smile spread across his face and he waved back at an awkward angle.

"'Ey! Ishi-kun, 'ow's it 'anging?" Mar said, his words a little slurred. Serizawa choked back a chuckle. The man still couldn't put a h on the front of a word to save his life, "Pull up a chair… sure we got some around 'ere, it's only a fast food place."

Serizawa reached behind himself and pulled a chair around. He sat on it backwards so he could rest his arms on the back and possibly his chin on them. Somehow, even having been up for only an hour, he was already tired. Giving Mar his usual easy smile the director narrowed his eyes and raised his brows. It wouldn't be long before Mar got talking anyway.

G2 straightened himself out and turned his chair halfway around so he could keep an eye on the monitors and the son of his old boss at the same time. The way the director had sat, Mar remembered it fondly from showing the younger man the ropes and getting him up to speed on his father's business. Someone was expecting a story.

"Come on Ishi-kun. You know we don't work on the same team anymore." G2 scolded.

"Not, if I remember, for lack of trying to keep you with us." Serizawa replied, his smile genuine as he reminisced about just how much he'd been through with the man sitting before him.

"I know I know, 'ow I would 'ave loved to keep innocent all these years." Mar said with a nod, "But this ain't all science project any more Ishi. It's also a bit of a war."

With that Mar's hand went to one of the tablets and switched a screen between applications, from seismic analysis to video playback. Serizawa's brows furrowed. The sound was muted, if there had been any in the first place, but G2 had just brought up combat images, very close combat images, probably taken with gun cameras. Serizawa's heart almost broke, he had so wanted to avoid any more of this. Whoever was holding the gun, and by the time stamp, had been doing it last night, was in all but point-blank combat with a MUTO. Serizawa had heard preliminary reports of something happening to the Northeast the night before, but those were confused and fragmentary. This was nothing of the sort, G-Unit had fought a MUTO only hours previous.

It took a few moments for the scientist in him to kick in and start an analysis of what he was seeing, something else came to Serizawa's mind first and he asked it, "Was anyone hurt?"

"'Awkins dislocated 'is left arm, but it'll 'eal up soon enough." Mar answered, his lisp making it a little hard for him to sound as serious as he was being, "Few other boys got some scrapes and such, nothing bad."

"That's good." Serizawa said with a nod, then pointed to the screen, "But this kind of thing is another reason why we should be working together, not at odds."

"I don't see it that way." G2 said with a scowl, changing the screens back and taking anything too telling off as he realized what Serizawa would be seeing, "It's as bad as we thought it could be Ishi. People aren't taking this seriously enough and Monarch, bless its old 'eart, is just too behind the curve. I agree with the other guys from G. We've got to 'it and 'it 'ard now, early. Prioritize targets, conserve resources, learn and adapt with the sciences, not despite them. Too much is at stake to treat this like some kid's science project."

"I remember when it was some child's science project." Serizawa said, wistfully, "When did we lose ourselves? When did we forget what was at stake and start treating the world like it was ours?"

"'Eh, when did we stop?" Mar said, leaning back in his chair, "Remember the eighties? Plenty of research to do, lots of new technology. Practically no MUTO incidents. Those were the days."

"I remember it differently." Serizawa said, sighing, "Monarch was a ship with a wheel but no rudder. It drifted about and I hoped it would stay that way, because the alternative…" the director motioned to the screens again, "We've just seen the alternative."

"Yeah." Mar agreed, head down, "But the lack of a rudder, it left people wander into some dark places they never should 'ave been. Damn, but my brother's son is deep in it now."

Serizawa tilted his head, processing that. It was true that almost all of the Stevens' line that Mar belonged to had joined Monarch in one way or another, but the name was common in America.

"I was unaware that anyone from your family past yourself and Ralton had joined Monarch." Serizawa pointed out.

"Ah, Ral's kid Mickey snuck in on some administrative assistant thing." Marion said, waving a hand dismissively, "No one would expect a Stevens to be in Monarch as anything but a scientist I suppose. 'E was always an odd one. 'Ideki-kun says 'e got a touch of the devil in 'im. Lord knows where that came from. Never did like 'is mother that much though."

"He's changed." Serizawa said sadly, "He's not that old, yet his blond hair is nearly white. Something is dead in him. I thought I understood his goal, but now I feel I know nothing."

"I wonder what the people in the Darwinian Pool Room would think about this?" Mar remarked, not taking the whole thing too seriously and going back to one of the philosophical arguments he and Serizawa had always sparred with in the past.

"You knew then." Serizawa looked up and said with a nod.

Mar snarled at that, "I know that when Ral was killed it sent 'is wife off the deep end and she 'urled 'im out twice as deep." then went back to the inexplicably amicable daze he had been stubbornly holding onto all along, "Nothing to be done about it. Everybody alright down at your place."

Serizawa turned back toward the street and looked at Marion out of the corner of his eye. The devolution of his nephew into something that could release absolute destruction on the world without even blinking had obviously taken its toll on the scientist. While the director would eventually have to know about the exact processes of that devolution, trying to pry it out of his old employee would be useless and heartbreaking at the moment.

"So 'ow's the nutball family?" Mar continued, sipping something frothy and green from a paper cup, "Green apples and soda, would you believe it?"

Serizawa shrugged and turned to look fully out the window, "The Zamalek family is… themselves for lack of a better word."

"And that little chirpy that was following you around like a lost puppy those last couple years?" Mar said with a conspiratorial grin. Serizawa tilted his head and turned back to Marion with a look of confusion on his face. In the background Vivienne Graham snuck in the side door, saw the both of them talking, hid her face behind her clipboard, and snuck out.

"We lost Whelan in Janjira, a hundred more besides." Serizawa said, his head down. Marion just looked away, the expression on his face unreadable.

"When are you going to come around kid?" G2 remarked, packing up his tablets and locking down his other equipment, "It took my brother under twelve thousand tons of cement and words from the right group of people to 'elp me figure it. I know there are different situations, but sometimes with these things you've just gotta cut your losses and research the corpses."

"Like with Gojira?" Serizawa poked at G2.

"Nah, 'e's not that kind of situation." Mar said with a smile, then pointed over to the massive truck across the side street from them, "You need the lowdown on what's going on 'ere before things start up, and I don't know anybody better to give it but the guy in there. Just don't fret 'is jokes."

Serizawa wasn't in the mood to argue the point as he stood with his old colleague. Mar waved off to the restaurant manager before leading the director out and across the street.

"You won't impress me with a few pretty screens and readouts." Serizawa said, looking up at the huge, concrete colored trailer, "I've seen it all before, and this is better left to the professional military."

"And a fat lot of good they do 'andling it." Mar quipped, shaking his head and pulling down a staircase with rail on the side of the truck.

"If not for their consistent fear of Gojira and unwillingness to let him do what nature tells him," the director advised, "They would be the appropriate response to this type of situation."

"Our government thinks otherwise on that note Ishi-kun." Mar replied, heading up the stairs, "And as for Godzilla…"

"Godzilla is the least of our worries director." the slightly high-pitched but still imperious voice of G5 called down from on high, finishing Mar's sentence for him, "He's more of a last-ditch solution to our problems than the problem itself."

Serizawa looked up to find the tall, thin, G5 standing above the both of them in the recessed entrance to the truck. The man let G2 pass and with an easy smile reached out and shook Serizawa's hand.

"Marcus Piccolo, Colonel, US Marine Corps, retired, at your service." G5 introduced himself, "Nice to finally meet you Director Serizawa."

As G5 stepped aside to let Serizawa in the director noticed how recessed the door was in the side of the truck. He'd expected the outside of the truck to be storage for the computer systems and communication equipment the group would need. It wasn't. Raising an eyebrow Serizawa found himself looking edge on to about a half meter of tank armor. He thought back to his first view of the truck and things made far more sense. There would have been no need to heavily air condition a normal truck but as it was more of a heavy mobile bunker filled with computer equipment, cooling it would prove a major difficulty. Looking back the director wondered just what kind of engine they were using in the cab to propel something so massive. Even the suspension system…

"She's a beauty, isn't she, director?" G5 said with a wry smile, noticing Serizawa's confusion, "You don't need to be concerned with her weight though, she's much lighter than she looks. That's mostly impact absorber, we don't need very thick armor on her because of some special materials."

Serizawa nodded and stepped past into the trailer. He found the inside a rather familiar setup, similar to his building's Situation room and the combat command center on the Saratoga. The screens were showing mostly facility plans with a number of superimposed arrows here and there, and also images of men readying themselves for combat. A few dossiers showed on smaller monitors but the most prominent feature of the darkened chamber was a single ten foot wide, one foot tall red digital clock, one that was counting backwards.

12:19:42... 41... 40...

"What is that one counting down to?" Serizawa asked, afraid he already knew.

"Worst case scenario, based on appearance location, mostly oceanic route." Piccolo explained to start, then added, "That's when it all becomes academic and he gets here. Then God help us all."


End file.
